“I wish we’d fit the picture frame”, were words whispered onto a window covered in rain drops.
And if so,
would these hands still play with ebony hair?
Would there be arms to hold onto, strong but fragile?
Fragile in the end, but holding on,
although her shoulders escape the neckline of her dress?
The picture frame?
“If we’d fit the picture frame …” was a sigh into a purple shade of sky.
Would there still be bonfire flavoured kisses?
Would hair be admired?
Taken by the wind?
Blown into chaos?
Blown out of the picture frame?
“But if we’d fit the picture frame,
would I still be safe in those softest eyes?
Would you able to imagine our life?
Without blurring out?
Without losing focus?” , were questions for the storm.
“You’re so adorable, but I have not need for you”, was a truth spilled into a Caramel Latte.
Life tends to fly by
frame after frame
in well-known images
imagined and pictured.
“I admire you, but I can’t fit you anywhere”, was a truth to drown in a bottle of wine.
Being seen
meant fitting in those frames
that never fit them
or anything they touched.
“If we’d fit the picture frame, it would not have been us”, were words for night to fall.
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 