“We’re both stuck on this roller coaster, boy”, my witch giggles sadly into the 4 PM darkness.
We can’t always face it together.
We can meet occasionally.
Share a moment.
Share a kiss.
Maybe there, high up on the top!
The moment right before the fall!
Skin on skin,
before the force is pulling it once more.
Or down there in the shadows,
where eyes don’t dare to go just yet.
Each time I feel the pull and fall,
my skin is stretched,
my gut is turned,
and I wonder if and how we’ll meet again.
The toughest phase
is not the stretching of skin
nor the gut upside down.
The toughest thing is being pulled apart.
I nod sympathetic. A witching love is a wild ride.
Mistress witch writes 