Standing by the window, this witch‘s hair was bound back.
Her favourite blue dress was covered with an overcoat.
Swallowing her shape.
When she was breathing, she was asked not to breathe in too deep.
At least not too much.
By those in terror by her passion.
And when she was singing, sometimes they clapped their hands.
Only to ask her to whisper.
And never risk to be heard.
So it‘s no surprise that one fateful night, she would whisper out of that window and into the darkness, heard by am mysterious stranger:
„Ruin me, Baby.
Please, ruin me.“
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Mistress witch writes 
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