I wish it were deadly enough to give me one last kiss after which I could honeslty say goodbye and leave in peace.
Not completely in peace.
But still with a sweet,
and sparkling,
and tickling
of life
that makes it possible to to greet death
with lips just kissed
and skin just touched
and needs just satisfied.
I wish it were deadly enough to grant me one last dance that would be the best dance of all my dances.
A dance that would give me
a melody stuck
in my head
In my thoughts
in my veins
while I go
into the forest
and die
with high notes prickling in my throat.
I wish it were deadly enough for life to be special just one last time.
For vanilla and candles
and violet and stars
and wine and a spinning
and getting lost in his eyes
and burning up a night
full of promises for time
that could have been ours.
I wish it were deadly enough for more to happen than an empty wall to stare at.
Why I am not a nice girl
I am not your nice, Christian girl next door, as you might have noticed. And this is not a role I play for this blogging project, or to promote my writing and music. This is me, and I stick to it, even when it gets complicated, and believe me: It becomes an issue more often…
Intimate tale
I yearn for those moments,When I existedsolelyin your eyes.When I wasnothingBut an image causingCuriosity.I lived in those momentsWhen you knewNothingAbout the scarsBetween myThighs.Moments that werePure and softAnd kept mySecretWithout anyFalsity.In those momentsI felt loveFor all the thingsYou mustn’tKnow.All the thingsWent looseWithin myHeadAnd found their wayOnto myTongue.I still amThese momentsWhen I hadYouAnd you deniedThe thingsI wanted…
The tale of mental health in a burning world
“Wanna feel better?”, my witch asks me as she presents tonight’s options. Do we want to get drunk and risk a headache? Do we want to try out yoga again although we’ve never managed to take it seriously? Do we want to escape the last traces of reality by watching a sitcom and ignoring the…
Mistress witch writes 