„I never told him this“, my witch whispered.
You touched a part of my soul
that had always been hidden.
You found it all by yourself
and I wanted you to keep it.
That part was wounded
very long ago
and I never noticed the pain
until you showed me
that this was no scar
but still bleeding
and I am still leaking.
„I never told him any of this“, Layla whispered into the garden flower scented candle light, and I felt the weight of unsaid words and broken dreams appear between us. „But I think that he knew. In all those small moments when he had just so survived and Dystopia neglected us for a while.“
Two broken girls are smiling tonight.
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 