Vanilla scented horror, when she‘s dying.
What to do, when out of daydreams?
Unable to wish for things, to dream.
When the world has turned into something.
Something that does not require us.
But inside we still exist.
I am barely a person anymore, because I‘ve been vibrating too much on that last frequency, so that no light would ever break itself on my shape.
What to do, when missing something.
Something like a violet sparkle.
And now that it‘s gone, the world has turned gray.
Turned into gray silhouettes,
that now and then remind of something,
and play pictures of the past,
all over empty walls to stare at.
I wish it were deadly enough to kill me instantly, so that I could go to one last party, have one last kiss and then hide deep in the forest to die.
She was a part of us, you know?
A part with a certain sparkle.
A sparkle all over us.
With round eyes and freckles.
A part that needed to be loved,
that flamed up when his hands were close,
his thoughts all over our skin.
Vanilla scented horror, when she‘s dying.
Unloved tale
OnceWhen someone had herShe was almost lovedBut then this someone thought:”I can’t be allShe’d ever known”And he let her go. And She ranShe ran too fastWhen she ranShe ran too far ThenShe was found againBy another strange manWho loved her recklesslyLove turned to painAnd carved his sinInto her skin And she fledShe fled too fastWhen…
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Mistress witch writes 
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