I bleed like Vanilla.
Why is he not here to lick my leaking soul?
My leaking soul that loses sweet daydreams everywhere it goes as small drops of joy turning into a sea to drown in.
Why aren‘t his eyes, his lips, his hands closer to the hole that opened up, that his presence opened up. Leaking out so sweet for eyes, and hands, and a presence too sweet to ever hurt enough to stop it from surviving the horrors he inflicted.
Your witch is bleeding vanilla.
Opening up her leaking soul.
Having her dreams drop out.
Drink from me, or one of us is going to drown.
My witching autumn desk
This was my longest quiet. My witch took a few weeks off. I have a lot of things to say, dark and urgent things! But my health made me pause everything. The first time in my life I’m saying that. I’ll be back in the next few days! Until then, enjoy the witching mood at…
Why do we stop doing things?
“When for health reasons we stop being ourselves, what is left then? ”, I complain to my witch just when the cold and dark season is ready to arrive. I am usually decorating a cake when the message I am dreading arrives. The pastry bag in hand, I read one cancellation after another. Of course,…
When we fall …
Who’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us all?Who’ll be thereIn the end? Late at nightI hear his voiceAnd I know thatHe waved her goodbyeThrough the noiseOf a world turning away. Laughter fromA window aboveBlurry lightsAnd I know thatShe gave upon loveRight there. And I wonderWho’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us…
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