I wrote you a letter
and was so scared
it might not reach you
in time
that I put
all my stamps
on it.
I had this feeling
it might be last one.
I ripped out
two photographs
that had been sleeping
inside an album
because I needed
to see them
and pass them on
to you.
I was walking
through rain
and streets emptied
by this plague
to send the letter
on its way.
Hoping
It was not
too late.
„Please don‘t let this be the last time“, I whisper to my witch, both of us not able to seek shelter from the rain inside our home, but searching the sky for a hole in the clouds.
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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