The Wicked Witch Called Love

Hush baby,

Soft-glowing splint right below a ray of bokeh lights. The horizon cries from the mirror of reflections.
Subtly kissing, mildy hissing.

Hush baby,

He whispered he loves you. Shut your eyes, that the chants of the moonlight shall rest in you. no cauldron of melancholy shall have your limbs all ripped up. He said he loves you, that he loves you, that he loves you.

Hush baby,

Love, she chants. In brooms, she sweeps you off your feet as you fall right into the pit – for him, for his love. He said he loves you.

Hush baby,

Woebegone porcelain face. Your eyes screen sorrows of tomorrow’s broken crane.

Your pusillanimity heightens with every cry of the devil. The long nights of awaiting his touch, the constant consternation of death awaiting your fingertips. You find no empowerment in yourself, and found it only in a coterie of a darling, oh how dreary.

Hush baby,

Love will wallop you. She will whip the guts out of your throat. Her eyes peers deep into your soul – you will scream, you shall yell, you will cry with your fresh blood smeared all across. Love, her fingertips merely slits pass your throat, her fangs all ready to rip you. Her power ‘electrocutes and hypnotises those of mere silly delusions. The sockets of your eyes lay empty, with the ball of reality gauged out. Her deviousness, some sort of Machiavellian deception that the angels of heaven are trapped in this trickery.

Hush baby,

Don’t take it. Dusk, the lights barely reflecting actual visions into your head. Beware of the juicy red apple right at your hands. The first bite of Adam, the last bite of death kissing your cheeks. Excruciating for months, centuries, she has done it yet again.

Hush baby,

Under the starry night, my child. Under the moonlight, my child. Under the twilight, my lady. She will creep within you, on all four sides.

Don’t let her in, the love, the witch that rips.


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