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They once called me a little girl
but I was never only that;
Even then I carried centuries behind my eyes
the memory of fires I had tended,
songs I had sung to the Moon
before this lifetime ever began.

They said I was naive
but I remembered too much;
the taste of Magic on rainwater,
the ache of lives unlived,
the language of the wind that no one hears anymore...

Now I am a woman
and the remembering has only grown louder.
There are nights when I wake up
to the whispers of who I used to be:
the priestess, the witch, the wandering lover,
the one who once knew how to speak to the stars into falling.

They still call me soft
But I know better.
I am haunted by everything
This world forgot to remember.

Call me Witch -
I want to know you can feel the Moon's magic between my legs.
The serpent power within my hips;
And the Goddess' witchcraft on my lips.

It's a perfect night to sit by a fire, twirl my hair & then offer me your beating heart.

He thought he could tame me.
Now he moans my name like a sacred hymn,
every night,
begging for the curse again.

you were the first person i felt both wildly unsure & unwaveringly certain of. that was the scariest part about falling for you; the fact that i had no idea what i was doing, but i had no idea what i was doing, but at the same time, i knew exactly why i had to.