I push your hugs away from me –
the warmth evaporates
into the cold mist of gloomy London,
and that’s what makes this city
so beautiful –
an expired love of forgotten craving.
It’s a factory of pleasure.
I stop clocks
and slowly break the time in half
before it breaks
into a million pieces of (un)reserved
seconds for you.
and gallop at a pace of my falling tears.
That are not even real.
I transform myself
from one bird into another,
disguising my feathers
under camouflaged colours of attraction.
I know you want to pick me up
and take me home.
I’m not that domestic.
– Chatty Owl –