there is this.

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Scars by V At Midnight Via Flickr: Here it is. All this open space where we were. All your love etched in my skin and when you vanished all that was left was a scar. My chest is cracked and my heart is black. I suppose you should know this but we all know if you write a ghost a letter it will never write you back.

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I Am The Wolf by V At Midnight (AWAY) Via Flickr: This wind carries whispers of ancestors, the wolf is near. The tall wet grass flails a fine mist on my skin, the wolf is here. The sullen sky covers her sun as the land swallows my feet, the wolf crouches near. Sharp teeth and the low growl in my ear and I am the only one here. I am the wild one to be feared.

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I Am A Haunting by V At Midnight

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Everything is haunted, just listen.

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The Sea Inside Me by V At Midnight Via Flickr: Rolling, twisting misty eternal soul. Re-emerging into existence in this skin. So strange to be another, as the sea. Rolling into shore, reaching touching drowning all and pulling back, erasing my journey and swirling away.

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Her spirit is half light and darkness. A holy bloody birth of sky and earth. Levitating and becoming a prism of melancholy and joy. Ancient existence of life and death. She falls away, but exist always in some form of life. Spiraling into another plain of experience. The witch knows she was once a flower.

VLH 2022

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Little Bird

I now know that I am not just a life I am life itself. I am not a living soul who prays but I am prayer in the flesh. I am holy and wild with fiery blood divining the very miracle of this existence. I am the wild untethered bird in flight, soaring and drifting softly above and towards something that is more than I can ever fathom or understand. I am the wind that supports my flight and as I lean downward into this graceful dance with wings, my soft body spirit drops feathers from the cosmos, and a sweet soft song from my breast of eternal grace and hope.

VLH 2022

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Roses Grow from Her Bones by V At Midnight

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There Is a Bird in My Mouth

Natalie Scenters-Zapico

I found it on your belly, and caught it with two fingers. I kept the bird on a little perch behind my ear.

I plucked its feathers, stuffed them against my jaw like chewing tobacco, and spit the black threads

into a styrofoam cup. One night the bird died. Crushed beak, split bone—we did it. Your heart

jealous, my body disgusted by the taste of seed and bark— we didn’t want the bird.

We did it over dinner, you reached into my memory by placing a finger

in my ear. I placed a hand in your mouth to catch the bird and we smashed it

together. This is simple, we did it and spoke of it with ease. Through the memory, we killed

the bird that was never ours. Now we’ve become bird butchers, you say

and throw the bird’s limp body in the trash. I reach to clasp your face, but have lost

both my hands. Each finger disappeared into your pupils, our little black cruxes.

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My heart is a bird in a bone cage.

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Candle Magick

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Sleepy Hollow

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She spins her web when she sees an open door.

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Coven