e.e. hanna

E.E. Hanna (she/her) is a queer writer, activist, and witch. Her work has been featured in collections published by Silent Spark Press as she finishes up her BA in English & Poetry and continues to work on her manuscript "On Loving a Banshee". She enjoys exploring the dichotomy between love and grief, agonizing over the existence of an infinite universe, and spending time with her cat. Find her on Instagram @labyrrinth.writes

[labyrrinth-writes]

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[labyrrinth-writes]

star-crossed lovers

a poster on my wall

a quote from Edgar Allan Poe

we loved with a love that was more than love

a painful truth

if only we could have loved a little less

our love was crushed under

the cosmic weight

of being written in the stars

[labyrrinth-writes]

Persephone to Hades "You are the kindest thing that ever happened to me, even if that is not how our tale is told. When everyone else told me I was destined to be a forgotten nymph that nurtured flowers and turn turn meadow gold, you saw that the ichor that resides in me demanded its own throne. You showed me how a love like ours can turn even the darkest, coldest realm into the happiest of homes." -Nikita Gill

[labyrrinth-writes]

[musterniillustrates]

made flesh amrit brar, 2017

short semi-stream-of-consciousness zine. i like putting my art and textposts/tweets/random journaling stuff together, especially when they end up being unlikely companion pieces. a lot of these are illustrations from the marigold tarot with the accompanying notes/text i haven’t shared alongside the cards yet. i’m planning on bringing printed copies with me to short run in seattle this weekend!

| instagram | shop | patreon | the marigold tarot | 

[labyrrinth-writes]

i can see your nipples through your shirt

i feel the fabric pressing against my skin,

keeping me safe,

keeping me contained.

a catcall as i cross the street.

only nine more hours

until i can crawl back into bed,

until i no longer have to be seen,

seen by men.

my hair tickles

the back of my neck,

undyed,

bare,

screaming for an identity,

healthy.

the breeze gives me

goosebumps.

my body is not the enemy.

[labyrrinth-writes]

believing in magic

all my life,

the world has been trying to convince me

magic isn't real.

it's just a thing of stories.

but i feel magic

every day.

-----

i see magic

in the way the sun rays

illuminate the smoke and

make your skin glow.

i hear magic

when you're laying in bed

next to me

singing in your soft,

sleepy voice,

silencing all the other

noise.

i taste magic

on my tongue

after trailing your body

with kisses while we

hide beneath the blankets.

i smell magic

in the shirts you

slip off

and hand to me

before i drift to sleep.

i feel magic

in the peace

that falls over my body

when you are

close and happy.