A witch once had to kill a heart.
She had to cut it out of a chest
heavily suffocating,
for it was shining too bright
and too golden
out of infectious eyes
making a soul leak.
A witch reached out for it.
And for the golden sparkle
that felt so lonely
and so lost
in a world gone mad.
She removed the ribbons and the fabric
from the suffocating chest.
She opened knots and ties,
and reached out with her needles
to remove the skin that had once shivered
so lovely when touched.
She fixed the bloody ends
right on those rips
to reach inside
and kill the heart.
To rip it out.
And kill the light.
Kill the words of love,
in thoughts of care.
Kill the heart of a mother
in a world that does not support life anymore.
Kill the heart of a lover
in a world that burns the flesh and drains the blood.
For no more red on those cheeks
and sparkling in those eyes.
For no more singing,
no more yearning,
but silent breaths,
just so to suffocate no more.
„But you know“, my witch giggles into this upsetting tale. „It grew back.“
„Really?“
„Yes, always!“ She sighs. „Whenever eyes met, when skin was touched, when the chest was hugged, it grew back. It‘s fucking tough to kill a heart! Possible, but tough.”
Unloved tale
OnceWhen someone had herShe was almost lovedBut then this someone thought:”I can’t be allShe’d ever known”And he let her go. And She ranShe ran too fastWhen she ranShe ran too far ThenShe was found againBy another strange manWho loved her recklesslyLove turned to painAnd carved his sinInto her skin And she fledShe fled too fastWhen…
Just a haunted girl scaring her friends – Writing update!
Intrigued. And quite as bit terrified.Those were the exact same words I got as feedback from my friends whom I’d recently handed the first pages of the witching novel to. Seems like I’ve accomplished my task, right? I’m the haunted girl scaring all her friends!No, but really. It felt as if I was understood through…
Tale about the softest secret
This tale is about a girl I once knew. This girl could not go anywhere without her lovely white shoes. Made of cotton, their rim did not reach her ankles, giving away how thin they were. Their soles were so slim, she felt the earth with every step. Those shoes she needed so dearly were…
Mistress witch writes 