There’s a spell in the blood and salt in the air,
A curse in the kiss and a ghost in the stare.
Born of midnight, veiled in flame,
Running from silence, dancing with shame.

Hands crafting herb blends with care,
Trying to live like the magic’s not there.
But love’s not gentle when it's marked by fate,
It doesn't knock, it doesn’t wait.

One wandered far where the wild winds wail,
Drunk on danger with fire on every trail.
Bound by blood and bound by bone,
Even in distance, never alone.

They buried the past in roots and stone,
But darkness listens and makes itself known.
What you hide in the soil will rise in the mist,
A ghost in the room, a bruise on the wrist.

The storm arrived in a circle of hands,
A reckoning danced through the salt-strewn sands.
And from the ashes, a truth they smiled,
One saying you keep me safe.
One saying You keep me wild.

Now the wind sings through the garden gate,
No longer bound by fear or fate.
Love is not cursed; it’s just beguiled
By witches who's craft are both safe and wild.