Hecate, my goddess.
She reigns over crossroads, magic, witchcraft.
Some say the night, the moon, the doorways are her domain.
Hecate, triple goddess,
Maiden, Mother, Crone.
Wolves, torches, snakes, and knives,
signs of my great deity.
I beg of you, oh goddess, anger not at me, but teach me to be better, to follow in your ways.
Teach me to be a witch, dear goddess.
the winter makes me so happy
the snow hanging in the trees
the cold biting at you
i love it
oh Icarus, you poor thing.
fell in love with the sun, the sky-
paid the price, i suppose.
why do we always pay the price for love?
Orpheus, lonesome poet,
lost his love because he wanted to tell her they'd made it.
In my attic I keep my heart.
I hold it there, safe amidst pillows, blankets and childhood stuffed animals.
When I make things, I break off a piece of my heart,
and sew it into pillows,
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