trinity of pain 

all the church

gave me was guilt,

anxiety, and shame;

when i walked away

from that i was able to

parse together pieces

of my heart that still

remained from my youth

along with all the new

songs of me—

woven together by the

moon,

i have always been

her daughter;

took me a while to realise this—

but when i stepped into

my magic,

i began to realise a lot of 

things i once believed may not

be true;

and i recognise now love

is beautiful in all of her forms

not just the one way i was taught.

a lonely moon

can you call your

fate into being,

i don't know;

but i do know

i tire of loneliness

haunting me in 

whispers

making me wonder if i

ought to be somewhere

else or someone else 

rather than here or me—

if i could sift through

people the way that they used

to pan for gold,

and find my true love then

i'd find them in that way;

but there's billions of people

in the universe—

and i am but one moon missing

from one sky,

how does one go about catching

a sun?

or does the sun find them?

i'm not sure,

all i know is i am a lonely moon;

longing to dance with her sun.

nightmares and all 

so many want the 

dream of me,

not the reality;

they want the pretty

face and the pretty clothes—

they want my smiles,

and my sunshine, and my flowers;

but they don't hold space for

my darkness, my thorns, or my

anger—

they want the results of my spells

without my magic,

and you cannot have a witch without

her magic;

my patience is wearing 

thinner than a moth eaten threadbare

blanket snapping in the wrong month of winter—

accept me as i am

nightmares and dreams

or don't long for me, at all,

because i cannot be anything or anyone less

than me.