MECHANICAL

Simultaneously
I hug my loneliness and offer my body to you.
The need to have your hand on my face
is so overwhelming,
my eyes are begging you to

hit me,
wipe my tears,
touch my cheek while you look away.

Anything,
as long as I get the physical expression of what you call
a lustful attention.
The minute I wake up,
I want to replicate the fantasies in my head,
thinking that if I act long enough,
my life will become a pool of petal-filled happiness.
Pretty as a snowflake
and cold as a thousand of them,
I learn lessons of life
the hard way.
One step forward and three back –
that’s the pace of the mechanical love.
Poisoned with apathy,
I stare at pictures of myself,
while my fingers are busy picking cogs
out of my favourite clock.
Time becomes irrelevant,
when your life is inked with misfortune.

– Chatty Owl –

EIGHT. FOUR. BEDROOM NUMBERS

Like evolving species,
my thoughts progress to only one thing –
you.
Softness of my skin
meets roughness of your words
and we make the perfect combination
of lust.
Nothing is staged,
it’s not a movie,
bodies aren’t perfect,
when they form bedroom figures of eight,
divided in two –
a male and a female –
making a four – well, me on mine.
Knees hold the weight
of years yearning
to feel something more than plain
boredom.
The urge of the body
is the process of the mind –
constantly evolving.

– Chatty Owl –

CHINESE TEA

Careful attempts to come closer,
you estimate your actions,
you count your steps
while counting on my mouth,
ajar,
to invite you nearer
as I whisper you secrets
about my inner beauty
and broken parts of my heart,
making you remember
every moment
that was my past,
and now it’s going to be your future.
You put yourself above the rest,
sharing tea with me becomes
your obsession,
a herbal drug of a hooked up soul,
adjusting schedules to fit my needs,
as I adjust myself between your legs
in return.
You melt into the warmth of my skin
wanting to conquer
every living corner of my mind,
so you could fill it
with the presence of yourself,
but that’s only
if I let you.

– Chatty Owl –

A POEM ABOUT NOTHING

You occupy my mind
and I can’t resist you,
as I dream of things
that haven’t happened
I’m hiding the things
that I wish had not.
Happiness is in disguise
and I want to rise up,
walk right out that door,
but all I can do
is lock it tight behind me,
just staying in this room
and jumping to conclusions
as you jump all over me
with your words,
and orders.
I want to let go of things
I haven’t yet achieved,
but you are overwhelming
my walls of flesh,
inside,
and I want to walk
barefoot to you,
offering up myself
as a parting gift
of total obedience.

– Chatty Owl –

THERE ARE NO RULES IN WAR

I remember the green-patterned fabric
of the smoke-enhanced sofa
that we used to spend hours on
in the most horizontal position possible,
and how you told me to ignore
the sound of the pocket watch you had,
as it ticked from seven to eight to nine,
and I knew it’s that time now,
when my face will be buried
in those red-stitched flowers of a thick quilt.
It was like waiting for a permission
to tear the wrapping
off the present
just to find out
it’s not what you’ve wished for.
My mind is good at keeping
little unimportant details about the past.
I remember a frayed label on your black sweatshirt,
and it was the only piece of clothing
that witnessed me going
into a vertical position after a very long time.
You imprinted a permanent habit in me
to always look at men’s shoes,
because you told me
that is the only thing that intimidates them.
Especially,
if they are looking at you
and craving sex.

It was such a good tactic of defense,
I think I knew all shoes in my city.

– Chatty Owl –

A MELTED CHANCE

A fantasy. A dream
that I woke up from.
My fractured mind wanted you so badly.
Like an injured fox,
I craved you to look at me.
After me.
Through me.

I wanted you to feel me from inside
and
allow me to glow in your spotlight.

To belong to you
is something I’m so scared of.
I want to feel your firm hand,
tender kisses,
strict commands
and your sweet orders.

Yet…

I’m hiding in the cave
with a twisted ankle and an injured heart,
leaving me unable to walk to you
in this dream turned
fantasy.

– Chatty Owl –

STANDSTILL

Don’t say a word.
Rust
-y
hinges of your perfectly shaped mouth
cry,
but I don’t want those teary words
escaping.
Hug me,
just don’t promise
that
everything will be alright.
I lied
when I said I want you
to tell me what I want to hear –
I don’t really want to listen
to the vacant efforts
that we made once.
Our love is a sad slow dance
in an empty house,
where we twirl each other
towards a cold standstill
of the end.

– Chatty Owl –