w i t c h e s

every neighbourhood houses witches

the last brick house down the lane

wild women with unruly hair

looking out of their windowpane

sharp dagger-like tongues

cutting curses deep in your skin

stay away, you warn little children

and whisper to your next of kin

tornadoes decorate the corners of their house

swirling dark clouds of anger and cries

they'll fight you on rent

the air chilly in their vents

cracks in the elevator shaft

leaking wisps of strength, adding on weights you could never hope to lift

raging thunderclaps sound

when you smoothly ask for the ring to be passed

to the man of the house

in whose blood you think these women are doused

they don't attend your fairs

or your warm bonfires

maybe because they're afraid you'll burn them on the pyre

finally a neighbourhood

where no witches are alive

though i hear their voices

in my own exasperated sighs

i look in the mirror

to find, the witch that was cursed 

now resides inside

the brick melted into smooth blinding silver

like a lake of my 'sins' 

stay away, you warn little children

and whisper to your next of kin

Of What Was And What Is

Loss is like taking off a ring you've worn for a long time

Your finger still feels the weight of the gold band which isn't there

Your hand still goes towards it to twist it around the finger in nervousness

You look at your middle finger again and again seeing the lighter part of your skin, the only trace of the ring that is left

It leaves you disoriented,

To not have something which you clearly feel is right there

Loss is like visiting your favourite restaurant's shut down building

You're overwhelmed with memories

You remember every table full of chatter

You remember the wooden doors that opened to another world

The familiar scent, the lights, the decor
Warm, lively and alive
And you smile from the feeling

But nothing is there

Here lies a barren building
Cold, lifeless and dead
With only memories haunting the rooms 

Like the ghost of what was and now what is

Taking your smile away and replacing it with shudders

The building is still right down the street
( The room is right down the hallway )

If you listen closely you can hear the chatter
( If you listen closely you can hear him calling)

The windows are intact, giving you an insight into the past
( The pictures in the frames are intact, giving you an insight into the past )

But nothing is there

Here lies a barren building
Cold, lifeless and dead
With only memories haunting the rooms

Suffocate.

A person sits outside my window

I see his shadow in the night

He drums his fingers against the glass

He waves me a good night 

I wave back

His cold presence doesn't bother me anymore,

Like it did to the child before

He drags his drumming nails across the glass

Making a screech sickening to the stomach

His long thin fingers press against my neck

Choking me 

Remind myself to breathe in

Almost pulling my soul from its anchor

Breathe out

Making my vision blurry

Breathe in

Gasping for air

Breathe out

Arms cemented to my sides

Breathe in

A soundless scream

Breathe out 

And then it's over. 

Breathe in

A person sits outside my window

Its daylight by now

I see his silhouette

He drums his fingers against the glass

He waves a good day

I scoff

Heaving over the basin

Puking out black ink

The only remnants of the nightmare

Reminded that this liquid was made by my own treacherous body

Helping my treacherous mind in my misery.