When walking home
my arms full of
a box of donuts and a cup of ice cream,
I was so sad.
I was so sad
and I was wearing black
and even hiding half my face under a dark cloth,
and I cried.
I cried
and you never knew
how sad I was and it made me
cry even more.
It made me
cry even more
and I wished for you to have seen my
new purple hair.
You never saw my new purple hair,
but for a moment there,
I closed my eyes.
I closed my eyes
and imagined
that you would have and felt your eyes all over me.
And really felt
as if you were close the way you never were,
and I went on.
Went on to words
you never said
and felt them
recognizing me.
Recognizing
my tired eyes
and weakened arms
clinging on to my box and cup of sweets.
Recognizing
me needing you
and never being able to say so.
I felt you
finding your way to be close to this crying witch
all wrapped in black
and ready to get lost in sweet means of escape
and for a second there
all of me thought this witching dream were real.
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 
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