The hole you ripped inside this soul is one beyond repair.
It‘s one that has been for longer than you think,
and has been leaking now and then,
when the wind was cold
and the windows of houses
were warm and cozy in the distance
too far in the distance.
While ripped open, this soul could recognize what it had always been missing.
And why the skin
which it is wrapped into
has always been hurting
and never been glowing with that sparkle
a gentle touch could provide
and was begged to provide.
In this pain there hides a bitter truth.
It is that this is maybe
and surely never simply
going to ease
because these wounds are real
and deserve to leave a scar
just as lovers share a scar.
„You made sense of me“, the witch whispered to the man already wearing his mask so much feared by the rest of the world.
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 