You‘re not here anymore
and I‘m still saying these things.
I‘m still saying these things
that I did not ever want to say before,
that I did not even joke about.
You‘re gone
and I‘m still saying these things
that I wanted to say to you.
I‘m still saying these things
although you can‘t hear me.
But I‘m still saying these things,
so someone will hear me.
Someone will hear these things
that I‘ve always wanted to say.
„Is that you in hopeful?“, my witch giggled. „Thank god you weren‘t there to hold my hand in 1624 when my second stillborn baby almost took my uterus with it.“
Thanks, Layla.
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 