I am broken, see? Your love is killing me, killing me as I know myself. My dreams do not resemble a kaleidoscopic waltz, they are dark, troubling and leave me empty by the morning.
I hate myself for being that vulnerable. I hate being me, you know. I hate it all and I don’t want to face it again.
You watch me from the shadows, my Lord. You watch me warily, wearily, silently. Your eyes are like golden amber covered in mist. You watch me and your face is solemn. Do you hear me,my Lord, I hate it! And what’s more, I hate myself for being here.
Hear me out, my Lord. I keep my word as well as I can. My head is burning. My heart shattered. I cannot feel what I once felt and it’s killing me.
Reinvent myself, you say. The wheel has turned, the circle is complete, you say. But what do you mean by that, my Lord?
Godspouse. Shaman. Priestess. Awenydd. Humbled by your presence. Destroyed and reborn, denied and kept safe. I am all that, and yet I don’t know who I am.
Speak, my Lord. Tell me what I need to know. I am so tired, so worn out by emotions and weight of my former self.
Talk to me, my Prince of mists, talk to me, for I wait here. Under the hawthorn tree. As always.
Into the Unknown 