Witching Hour

I wish that I believed in something
I wish that I could feel ethereal
I wouldn't mind old scars if it meant I had a present peace of mind
I wish I were a witch
I wish I were a troll
I wish I were a child
And sometimes I wish I lived in a castle
Or underneath a bridge
I wish I could call the constellations by their names
Or name the birds by their songs
I wish I owned an apothecary
Or a bookshop with a cat
Or that I was a robber or a prince or a Martian
I wish that I loved sunrise more than the concept of sunrise
I wish that I could take a sailboat by the helm
Or that I was in love and yet repulsed by love
I wish that had one good story of regret
Or that I was as pretty as the moon
And I would cry when I felt like crying, sad or happy
I wish that somewhere out there, someone else was thinking like this
I want to be an illustration in an old book, where vines grow across the cover and the title is in gold lettering
I wish on woodsmoke, thunderstorms, and bad whisky…Cheshire cats, rose thorns, and the nervous way a dock creaks at night
Screams in the dark and lanterns in the tower
Loud music down the street and broken glass in the garden
Blood rituals and fairy circles
Red hair and green eyes, pointed ears
Taboos and curses, charms and runes
A motorcycle roaring to life
A green flash at sunset, a hazy harvest glome
And the smell of hot rain on asphalt
I wish that somewhere out there, someone else was thinking this