they have taken from me. gossip like snakes in a garden. eyes like orbs in the night, haunting, stripping the cold from me. making me warm & belly up— starving for their grace. they have taken from me. small town pyres. small town regret. I have taken from them, too. their secrets laid bare. spells they cannot undo, books filled with their misery. we take— humans & witches & the fire we both wield. we take until these bones break, until we starve for grace. belly up, & six feet below. we are all whispering to the worms in the end. like snakes with no garden left.
The above poem is from This Witch. You can read This Witch here for FREE!
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