Lately, all I am able to think during long and surreal nights are words my witch might have screamed on one of her many potential death beds, when blood was flooding her and still there were all these memories of moments that never were.
„I want to live
to taste your lips
and sometimes
I want death
to touch my soul
for me
to breathe in deeper.
I want to live
to feel this skin
soft in your hands
to hear this voice
sweet in your ears.
I want to live
to feel this sparkle
one more time
just one more time
it‘s always
one more time
for this hungering hope
outlives a body
and a soul
ripped apart.
„Will there really always be words like this to scream?“, I ask my witch. „Or can we die in peace after all?“
My witch giggles. „Some can, but I feel like we don‘t.“
Haunting Humor of a failed witch
An Iced Latte.A floral dress slipping over the shoulder.“I’m finally at that stage where people congratulate me for keeping my humor”. I tell my witch in horror.“That’s what happens when you survive beyond a certain point”, my witch knows to respond and steals the Iced drink from my hands. Humor has been haunting me.Humor broke…
Travelling to Edinburgh slow and green!
The feeling of being stuck was my main motivation to start this blog and summon my witch, so I love to write blog posts about all of the things that I am once again able to do! Ever since the pandemic does not have a grip around my life anymore, I can do things I…
Finding and keeping my voice
I grew up with depression, but it wasn’t mine. Honestly, I think the main reason why I started talking to my witch on this blog was that I never had people around that could give me a bearable perspective of life in this world, so I needed to rip dimensions apart. My mother never got…
Mistress witch writes 