Tag: writing

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MEANS TO AN END

Lack of sleep
turns into lack of tolerance
I have for you
right now.
My restless body
moves under pale shadows
of these warm sheets
and I eagerly attempt to ignore
the approaching morning
in order to forget
that
my sunsets are the colour of your heart
that got violently pierced
by skyscrapers
of an unfamiliar land,
where I fly
high,
above the first glimpse
of the London dawn
to steal your sky away,
just like I took your heart
that day
on a journey to nowhere.
With me.
I teased
and left you wanting me
a little bit more
than you did two minutes ago,
but it wasn’t enough
to make you lose your mind,
all because we both know
I made this choice for us
on purpose
and
spoiled the taste
of my imaginary whispers
and kisses on your mouth
to stop us moving forward.

Addictions require dedication
and I don’t like commitments.

– Chatty Owl –

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FLY HIGH

Stop.
Frozen bodies around us.
Touch.
My hand in yours.
Warm.
We are still warm.
Beg.
To stay this way.

Simple toys of paper airplanes
give me hope
that dreams fly at the speed of a thought –
light enough to be a breath
on a steamed mirror
that reflects you
next-to-me
and not the other way round.

– Chatty Owl –

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I MISS YOU

Your silent words,
sealed lips,
like an envelope of a letter
I’m dreading to open.
You gift me with a quiet torture,
an abandon treatment
and I know,
there is only an empty sheet of paper
inside.

Withhold the sentences
and words,
and cryptic letters,
forget the exclamation marks
that turn to
questions,
forget the signatures
and crinkled corners –
I’m holding this,
that’s nothing more than pile of dust –
imagination,
wishful thinking,
a gust of wind and whispers in the grass.

I thank you for nothing,
yet
I have to thank you.

– Chatty Owl –

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PEAR-SHAPED

You put words in my mouth
instead of placing fingers
there.
I let screams of anger,
when I should be shouting curses
of
ultimate pleasure.
Loud screeching noises
and
sounds of carnivore hunger
get mixed up in my mind,
while fading away into the fog
around us,
and like a sadistic siren
I enjoy
every single moment
that crows spend picking
on your heart.
I
should be burning your tongue
with mine,
but instead
I’m burning memories of us,
because scattered ashes
is the best way
to end it.

– Chatty Owl –

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YES, I’M DRUNK ON LOVE

My open mouth
swirling words,
spitting abuse and
words of fucking love.
Slick hugs
feel
like an obedient canary
singing praises –
raises –
ups and downs
of these nightmares.
Your lips
with the taste of lazy nothing,
aroma of a bird
(with wet feathers)
on you,
under,
on top of
me
(inside you)
and visa versa –
I’m a plain romance
to you.
With a heart of whiskey,
body of ice,
and
kisses and touches
in the pissing rain.
You call me names you know,
But you don’t know
-ME-
Lolita is my nickname
and
… is my name.
Sweet kisses
and fluttering eyelashes
turn into fans of lust,
waves of love,
winds of attraction,
hurricanes, that
destroy fucking everything –
even red lipstick
and
flawless legs.

Come.
Touch me to death.
To the line of departure.

Before it’s too soon to regret.

Lets.
Now.

– Chatty Owl –

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REMINISCING

Dirty taste of wet water.
Don’t remember all the sins I committed,
but
I still dip my toes and run my fingertips
in a shamefully disguised surprise
about
how sinister my past is.
You used to pull my hair
as I pulled myself up from my knees –
the electricity was so buzzing
between us,
that our bodies lost connection
and died
electrocuted
by each other’s sin.

– Chatty Owl –

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CARPET BURNS TIMES FIVE

Faint smell,
lingering on my fingers
is a constant reminder
of
those flawless hugs,
tongue-tied sentences
and
over-exposed film
that you used
on me
the night before.
It was black-cat-dark
and so softly purring
when
I came
(to you),
like a moon-child chasing paper
as I tried to stay
untraced
under your skin,
leaving you guilt and memory free
of us,
except I failed
and left
long black hair
scattered on your floor
while
every single carpet burn
now
means
that you cannot forget me.

Try?

– Chatty Owl –

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RAINBOW

You gaze at me,
I gaze out the window
as
we both touch the same wallpaper,
peeling,
but the patterns stain fingers
in different colours –
my green is your no
and your blue is the new red.
Mix it up.
Shake it,
but the results are always the same –
dirty brown.
Like an out of date rainbow.

– Chatty Owl –

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THE MORNING AFTER

You say
my skin is like your coffee –
with milk and sugar.
I smile in return
and we both sieve our own memories
about last night –
you smile and reach for my hand
while
I bury my coldness
in the rising steam from a cup.
I don’t pay for my drinks
and I don’t pay you compliments,
because
unlike my eyes,
my mouth is refusing to lie.

My indifference
still makes your breathing loud
and your heartbeat faster,
and I know
that
you see me as a girl
of
“let me be your man”,
but I can’t let you do that
as much
as I can’t stay here for too long,
so I just leave you
with cups both full
of milky coffee –
I like mine black anyway.

– Chatty Owl –

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CONVENIENT MOODS

Come.
A bit closer.
Do you remember how you used to toy around
with my fingers
while
I toyed with your heart
and we both blamed the playful moods
and
relationship faux pas?
Jealousy used to leak
like words
out of our mouths
and we soaked them all back
with our brittle lips
and dry kisses
of rehearsed attraction.
Do you remember,
how you didn’t complain
and I didn’t mention
that I notice it?

– Chatty Owl –