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
gather one of the two bodies and prop it up against the wooden chair.
grab the remaining body and lean it against the doorway.
don’t say anything. don’t break the spell. don’t ruin the recipe. you only have one chance at this.
set the temperature to slow burn for three weeks and let it simmer.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.