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.
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 