„ I wish I‘d loved you in better days.“
But would it have been love?
With the sun tickling skin unharmed yet?
With a glass of wine drowning words forgotten tomorrow?
With kisses unimportant, because they never were the last ones?
„Then, I wish I‘d loved in easier days.“
But would two souls have found each other, with no darkness pouring out?
Without a void to be filled with something not found yet?
Without skin to be healed with a gentle touch?
„I just wish I could have loved you“, my witch yells at the cauldron, now filled with train tickets, chocolate wrapping papers, and burned down candles and matches.
These are difficult days indeed.
The latest Dystopia confusion – or what vaccines, glasses, and sunscreen suddenly have in common.
Confusion is one of the most important aspects of Dystopia. It’s this state of the world that keeps burning into the skin like a nervous flickering – and suddenly you’ve bought frog legs from the weirdo at the end of the road, while your neighbour was hanged for a miscarriage 20 years ago. Let’s name…
Keeping the connection – About taking the next step
I remember standing on the same field where I spent most of the past unnerving months. Listening to the same three accords throughout a song reminded me of time passing, of the feeling of spending time with people while doing something special together. Studying for an exam, rehearsing a song, going on a trip -…
Of memories and ashes
Once you were thereTwo minutes afterWith coffee and rainI will rememberThe way that we wereThe world has felt whole. Once we were thereIt was a ThursdayWith tea and a smileI will always rememberIt made me forgetThat the world has got holes. I want this to beThe one thingTo hold on toTo fill up the holesWe…
Mistress witch writes 
Dear poet. The below lines will haunt us.
“But would it have been love?
With the sun tickling skin unharmed yet?
With a glass of wine drowning words forgotten tomorrow?
With kisses unimportant, because they never were the last ones?”
Took me a lot of falling down. I learn. Old love, need to be lessons. New love need to be new lullabies for us to create. We must be brave.
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Thank you for reading me, and thank you for your words! We must be brave, indeed.
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You are welcome, dear Mistress Witch.
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