ingredients | serves: 1
three nights spent in a haze wrapped around each other before the fog lifted and clarity chased the glow away
five soft smiles that were lost in the limbo between want and need
two hundred and eighty four barely-there, feather-light caresses, stolen while they were asleep
two sets of heartbeats in sync with each other
one hundred and twelve sweet nothings whispered under the safety net of darkness
one song sung to you as they nursed you back to health, already stripped and chopped
four cups of air you’ve breathed into each other
seventy two fleeting moments in which you looked up at their face and you felt your stomach churn
four tablespoons of the sweat that dripped from your bodies and seeped into the sheets that first night you touched
two willing bodies
one heart
directions | preparation: 8 months
step one
gather one of the two bodies and prop it up against the wooden chair.
step two
grab the remaining body and lean it against the doorway.
step three
don’t say anything. don’t break the spell. don’t ruin the recipe. you only have one chance at this.
step four
set the temperature to slow burn for three weeks and let it simmer.
step five
once you feel the fire in your veins hot enough to melt glass, the burning in your fingers strong enough to leave a mark, and the bubble in your throat threatening to burst, imagine yourself in a block of ice and swallow up the words that try to slip past your lips. i love you. note: do not let them out.
step six
finely crush the seventy two moments where your stomach had a mind of its own. do not let it show. you can’t afford to waste those moments.
step seven
mix in the the barely-there caresses and for each lost smile, stir for an additional week, because that’s how long you’ll be thinking of them before you even realise how much space they’ve taken up inside your mind.
step eight
pour the cups of the air you’ve shared into a blender for three nights, then mix in the sweat, and place in the fridge to chill. never let them thaw. do not hurt yourself by reminiscing.
step nine
place the heart in your hands and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until the blood spills onto the broken chopping board that is your rib cage and then throw it away. an empty heart serves no purpose.
step ten
say your prayers and hope for the best.
you wanted a love potion, didn’t you?
you’re in luck, this will only cost your soul.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
ingredients | serves: 1
three nights spent in a haze wrapped around each other before the fog lifted and clarity chased the glow away
five soft smiles that were lost in the limbo between want and need
two hundred and eighty four barely-there, feather-light caresses, stolen while they were asleep
two sets of heartbeats in sync with each other
one hundred and twelve sweet nothings whispered under the safety net of darkness
one song sung to you as they nursed you back to health, already stripped and chopped
four cups of air you’ve breathed into each other
seventy two fleeting moments in which you looked up at their face and you felt your stomach churn
four tablespoons of the sweat that dripped from your bodies and seeped into the sheets that first night you touched
two willing bodies
one heart
directions | preparation: 8 months
step one
gather one of the two bodies and prop it up against the wooden chair.
step two
grab the remaining body and lean it against the doorway.
step three
don’t say anything. don’t break the spell. don’t ruin the recipe. you only have one chance at this.
step four
set the temperature to slow burn for three weeks and let it simmer.
step five
once you feel the fire in your veins hot enough to melt glass, the burning in your fingers strong enough to leave a mark, and the bubble in your throat threatening to burst, imagine yourself in a block of ice and swallow up the words that try to slip past your lips. i love you. note: do not let them out.
step six
finely crush the seventy two moments where your stomach had a mind of its own. do not let it show. you can’t afford to waste those moments.
step seven
mix in the the barely-there caresses and for each lost smile, stir for an additional week, because that’s how long you’ll be thinking of them before you even realise how much space they’ve taken up inside your mind.
step eight
pour the cups of the air you’ve shared into a blender for three nights, then mix in the sweat, and place in the fridge to chill. never let them thaw. do not hurt yourself by reminiscing.
step nine
place the heart in your hands and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until the blood spills onto the broken chopping board that is your rib cage and then throw it away. an empty heart serves no purpose.
step ten
say your prayers and hope for the best.
you wanted a love potion, didn’t you?
you’re in luck, this will only cost your soul.
