Sunsets make me cry.
There is a brief moment when not just the sky is blue, but the whole world. The trees, the fields, the shadows in the narrow streets. Everything is tainted in this calming colour that closes up my throat. It’s like hearing an echo of all the other colours that once were, without being able to reach them.
Sunsets make me run.
They make me run outside, forget about everything I have been doing. They make me get lost in the forest, towards the horizon. They promise adventure somewhere in the distance, like a melody losing its tune.
Sometimes, I fear the sunset. I fear crying over the echo of a melody in the oncoming darkness. Sometimes I want to scream at the horizon that I have been crying enough, that another day should better start right now! That the past should leave me alone! But the past never does. When all the colours have left, when the night is coming around with a storm and melodies are lost, the echo of the past is louder than ever.
When I step out into the sunset, wearing a night dress and boots, I turn into my witch waiting for a sign of hope at the horizon, while keeping her distance to a world that turned on her.
“Sunsets make me cry”, I tell her.
“The sunrise would make you cry as well, but you always sleep in”, she mocks me and opens up another bottle of wine.
Will this ever change?
Mistress witch writes 