Are you a sunshine witch or a moonlight witch? Water witch or forest witch or urban witch? Crystals or bones? Potted plants or candles? Rose or cinnamon? Horns or wings? Boots or barefoot? Ghosts or gods? Flowers or ash?
people’s ghosts don’t scare me, this is what i want. i prefer that you show me your achy bones and the ghosts that linger your halls. i want to know you and every part of you and i don’t care how messy or chaotic you are. when you step foot into my life, i place my whole self into yours. i want to know you, i want to know what makes you, you. what makes you scared, what makes you happy, what makes you cry. because that’s so human and i am undeniably fascinated by the way we all love and thrive off of different things.
i don’t want to live in the ghosts of her memories, i want to make my own, with her, in our home, but loving her is so hard, yet i lay here in a bed of flowers, suffocating underneath buried roots in my lungs as i disintegrate without her, into empty bones, becoming a past she wants to erase into ashes to brush off into the streets of her childhood, sniffling as she shuts the door.