I heard that lonesome mountain.
I felt that cold wind blow.
Floating to the river's rhythm
Was the cradle of my home.
Love followed, and one day
She faltered in the ocean.
You left me in the moonlight
While the devil laughed
And kissed me on the cheek.
The night will not forget my name,
And dreams will not be the same.
About the Creator
The Omnichromiter
I write stories like spells—soft at the edges, sharp underneath. My poems are curses in lace, lullabies that bite back. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I believe in survival, transformation; in burning and blooming at the same time.
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Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️4 days ago in Fiction
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