The witch was wrapped in skin that never grew
but was stretched
was stretched too far
was stretched too early
was stretched into a shape
it was not yet to know.
The witch felt lost within that skin
That was empty at the edges
and did not fit
but swallowed her
and she wondered
if she‘d ever fit the space within.
The witch saw that she would have to expand
to claim the edges
and all the spaces
own them
make them hers
to understand.
But however hard she tried,
lost within there was a small
there was a soft
and vulnerable version
of herself
left lonely by her side.
This version needed love.
It never grew,
It never saw,
never knew
or understood
how it was lost.
The witch had an idea.
„I need someone to make me melt!“
She needed kisses,
needed touch,
and words to tickle skin
and help to feel and see.
And so, she roamed the world in yearning.
Mistress witch writes 