SPLIT IN TWO

I remember the odour
of your leather
while deafening German sounds
were slowly killing me
with a desire
to never stop kissing you.
I remember the scent
of your embraces,
they felt like you
were borrowing my life
for some freak show.
Years later,
I’m here again,
in the sweet spot
of square one –
same name,
different letters,
and yet another indescribable feeling
of loss,
just in reverse this time.
I looked up to you
so much,
it started to feel
like a hungover cocktail
of hot and cold.
Consumed,
more than by any other experience
in the past,
I finally overdosed.
On you.
And it seemed like a such good decision.

– Chatty Owl –

MISPLACED INSTRUCTIONS

No, this is not for you.
It’s not for him either.
This one is for
my-
self.
Getting words out from me is
art.
I part
my lips,
but I don’t part with my secrets freely.
An open conversation with me
is like slitting fish –
difficult to grasp,
difficult to maintain,
yet
you still can’t resist to get your hands
dirty.
High
on the sight of a bleeding sun,
I count all those moments
that made me think
low
of you.
Little acts of kindness
were like magnetic light –
intoxicating,
yet it resembled that sensation you get
when you stumble in the dark,
trying to find a familiar object.
An enigmatic quest
of lost surroundings.
This.
This moment right now.
I want you to ask me,
if this is for you.
I want to stare at you in reply
and mutedly nod.
And I want the movement of my head
to be the answer that I’m lying.

– Chatty Owl –

I MISS YOU

I wanted to be cured of madness that lived inside me. The delicious illness that made me jump in my sleep, thinking you are next to me, holding my dainty neck captive, so I could only breathe when you let me. I wanted to hide your clothes and throw away keys from all those doors that I’ve locked, because I was too proud to ask, if you were to come back here again. Spinning rooms and out-of-breath love
confessions were moments I remember most.

I miss those side effects of you.

– Chatty Owl –

A GIRL FROM SCRATCH

“You want to save me?” I ask,
as I’m suffocating
in the complexity of this sadness.

There is nothing to recover any more,
my dear.
I’ve infiltrated my simple body
with an intricate mind,
and the result was
an endless sandstorm –
dry and gritty ashes
of what’s left of us.
It hugged me
with its coarse hands
and left my skin grazed, raw and exposed.

“Can you describe love?” you ask,
but I’m having trouble answering you.

I stare in the opposite direction,
words whirling inside me
like a devilish blizzard,
as I attempt to find
the most appropriate definition
known to me.

“It’s a sexual penetration of emotions”,
I finally decide,
closing my beautiful mouth shut for good.

– Chatty Owl –

FLAWS

It’s not a secret,

I have a thousand flaws.

I line them up upside my head

and observe their stubbornness to never leave me.

 

(You did though)

 

Fresh cut grass – one of my favourite smells,

yet it’s funny

that I like something that’s just been cut.

Sliced.

Beheaded.

 

(I should do the same to all my imperfections)

 

Everything happens for a reason, they say.

How do they know?

 

– Chatty Owl –
waiting-page-0011

AUTUMN

Coldness comes
in waves of colour and sound,
and
I often imagine myself,
barefoot,
in a pile of leaves,
waiting for you to come to me,
to be an echo of that one evening
that I can’t forget.
I want to embrace the approaching winter
with a thought
that you’ll stay that way forever –
an idol.
A never-ending mirage.
Like the sound of horses in the distance,
our days disperse
further and further apart.
Little disappointing actions
turn into a map of roads
that were never meant to intersect.
I tried so hard
(or maybe not enough)
to keep my head full of dreams
and my heart free of remorse,
that I forgot to forget
that you are just a reverie.

– Chatty Owl –