Your witch

by C Cattaway   Mar 17, 2008


The touch of the pillow, the smell of your breath.
I welcome the night, just as I welcome death.
I touched down the edge, and it jarred, like a knife.
No wonder I'll never compete with your wife..

You met with the devil, and lied like you knew.
You spoke all the words, only once, they were true.
No truer words spoken, when they're said to a friend.
No meaning is greater, when no nearer the end.

If only dear sleep came, no need would I have
To cry into this sweet soft pillow, I have.
The words that were written, so clear, and so right.
I read them quite clearly, the black, on the white..

Where emails, so modern, communicate all
The thoughts that we're having; the big, nay the small..
And how, so insignificant, so they were,
That you said to him, was it not you inferred

That life was so casual? Life was okay?
Life was to carry along in that way?
And once you had spoken, of how we could be
No longer would your life live so perfectly?

And did you not say that I caused you the trouble?
Was I the witch, with my toil, and my trouble?
Did I not trap you? Manipulate what
It was that I wanted? So, what have I got?

A barrel of lies, and a cauldron of hurt?
Did I miss out, when I buried your dirt?
Was it the lies, could you not carry on?
How could you lie, when all meaning was gone?

Did you feel lost, and alone, and in vain?
Did the despair become flooded with rain?
Can you not see how you opened my heart,
Ripped it all inside out, tore it apart?

All of those words, that you spoke..Babe, they're true.
You told them to a friend, and those words are you.
You cannot hide from the truth that you told.
You'll have to live with it, as you grow old,

But me, I'll go somewhere that you cannot find
A way to progress all the pain, or my mind
Won't have to keep wondering how much is true.
You hurt me, yes, angel, all because I loved you.

xx

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  • 16 years ago

    by Katie

    .."The touch of the pillow, the smell of your breath.
    I welcome the night, just as I welcome death.
    I touched down the edge, and it jarred, like a knife.
    No wonder I'll never compete with your wife.."..

    Hun, this bought tears to my eyes, I wish i had been around more for you in this last week ...
    A beautifully written poem. I love the way you put yourself as the witch, with a cauldron etc - very cleverly done.
    K xxx