„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.
I wish I’d told you all my stories.
I want to tell you all my storiesIt’s not that they would changeIt’s just that I would likeTo see themFormA new expressionOn your face I need to tell you all my storiesI am not sureIf they makeSenseThe way I thoughtThey do. I will tell you all my storiesThey frighten meI’m sure you won’t endureI see…
Dealing with darkness in writing
This spring afternoon is glowing pink and tastes like strong tea. It feels much too familiar, and I begin to open up.I feel far away from myself as I start to talk, to babble on about my novel. About all the things I’ve been reading about in the past 5 years. About the 17th century,…
Radical witching novel rewrites at 4 AM!
I wore the same night dress my witch used to wear to get drunk on my windowsill, when I suddenly had an idea at 4 AM. Great ideas always happen at 4 AM, remember? This one however, kept me awake for at least a week, debating it back and forth. At some point my witch…
Mistress witch writes 