Elisabeth Writing

Oh think of me, won’t you, when the colorful trees shiver and the children are looking for tricks or treats. Think of me when you’re hunting for the perfect costume, or admiring the Harvest Moon at her peak. Think of me when sky-clad under an autumn sky. Think of me when you dance there, crunching leaves beneath your feet. 

All those costumes, becoming what I wanted to be (or maybe what they wanted me to be). 

Remember how I arched, feline, into your touch? Curled around you, kitten claws at your throat, my night light eyes haunted with both of our ghosts. I saw you in my eyes, too; I pretended not to see that death. I guess I knew. I wonder now if you saw it, too. 

Little Red Riding Hood as you kept those teeth at my pulse. Always wondering if you’d draw blood, make sigils on my skin. Love, what great ears / eyes / teeth you have. Where will the pain come from this time? 

Aphrodite to your Mars and yet… would you go to war for me, fight battles for my favors? The ichor on your cheeks, matching the gold flecks in your eyes; am I wrong for the shiver in my bones when you sweep me off my feet, still dusty and weary, still bloody and torn? 

Pirate with a rapier in my teeth, distraction and illusion, I stole your treasures and went deep into the sea. I didn’t think about the need to breathe, or be. 

You were the Hades to my Persephone. I remember dancing on ebony marble floors, the flush in my cheeks and stars in my eyes – even as the gardens burned around us, and there wasn’t a living being in sight. That sweet pain, that violet void elixir, kept me blind. My crown of flowers withered; grey, stung. I became not the princess of spring but the Goddess of Night. Sometimes, I think that there, a part of me died. 

And here I am at my altar, dressed in starlit cobwebs and stars. Raising heat, light and wonder; candles flickering, herbs burning, energy flowing. I don’t know what you’d call me, these days. It’s not a costume I’ve donned; not a costume at all. Witch-faerie godmother-goddess lover. Let me spill rose quartz and black tourmaline at your feet, let me pour honey into fiery jars of citrine, let me bring you love and peace. These days, all I am, is me.