I miss the colour of your words.
They used to taste like a rainbow,
but floated around
like a nighttime bug
and
turned to dust when touched
by lips of mine.
I swallowed your abc’s
like a bait –
with an enthusiastic passion.
I daydream about you,
your soft voice
and accent, foreign to my ears –
it’s to die for.
I told you once
and I’ll say it again –
you can read
a fridge manual out loud
and I’ll still get sticky wet
just by
listening to you.
Have I told you
that I imagine your hands
in between my legs,
when I read some
random famous poetry
and I burn bridges to my past,
so that you
are the only memory
for me.
I’ve never met you,
nor I ever will,
but my heart belongs to you.
So does my body.
Come, abuse them both.
– Chatty Owl –
CHATTYOWL 