upyrica:

“There is steel in your eyes, and oh, it burns, it was poured once in and forever stayed. On your scarlet lips there is mercury, your fingertips are with grasses stained – you blame on the rose what’s of wormwood made. There is gold on your feet, framed with lovely lace, and you dye it red for step in it you did – for a thousand miles and a thousand more, day and night and from door to door, and walk in those shoes you don’t need anymore. Your carriage is swift and your horse is like wind, and your house stands tall like a pillory. You have a crown now, and a velvet gown, and your quiet word puts proud heads in the ground, and worms do rejoice at your kind deed – and what better glory would a witch need?”

—

by C. Winter

(via upyrica)