You're nothing but
An evil witch!
Your soul is decrepit -
A stupid *****!
I hope you wreck your broom And end up laying in a ditch!
You ******* ugly,
Heartless witch!

Throw spilt salt over your left shoulder,
Spin spiders thrice around your head,
Keep new shoes off the table,
Hang a dreamcatcher above your bed
Do all of these things little one
She would hold me close and say
And you’ll be a witchy woman
Your luck will never go astray

I was taught this in the Summers
That I spent following her around
When Mum was busy going to work
Dad was nowhere to be found
With the whole world on her shoulders
Nan still carved out time for me
To make me a witchy woman
One content, one loved, one free.

The weight of the guilt I have
For the things I said about you before you died
Sit on my chest
Press me to death like a Salem witch.
Every time I drink I indulge in my tears
That I have no right to;
All I cared about when you were alive was vengeance for the way
You made me feel,
When I should’ve thanked you for opening my eyes
And I should’ve looked right through you
With open eyes-
And seen that you were dying inside.
I wrote that you were dead to me,
Not intending it quite literally
Not wanting for awhile
I manifested that for you-
I await my witch trial.

to lie down next to you in all of the perpetuity,
moss will grow all over our skin —
as if mushrooms, feeding on
dying, young aspens
and maybe the forest will claim us for its own.

to lie down and watch light slowly go mad
at the sight of the fog that festers,
at the feel of the skin that rots:
a macabre sight to the outside world, yet —
a lively feast to a ****** of crows.

soon, sweet one, candles will die
and i'll be lying next to you —



the feel of daylights, forgotten.