She looked at me with colorless eyes
And café-au-lait face.
Beads and thread spun into her hair,
Descending to her waist.
The scent of rosemary and answers drifted off her skin.

She fed me no lies, assessing the situation
With critical efficiency.
"I think I have something for that."
I waited in a red velvet, upholstered chair,
Twiddling my thumbs as she shuffled through the shelves
Lining the walls, crammed with books and trinkets and vials.

She selected one, careful not to drop it on the knitted rug
And handed it to me with a promise.
"Drink this. It will do what needs to be done."
I gave her thanks and payment,
And stepped out of her residence, happy.
As I returned home, the grape-juice colored potion
Was opened and sipped out of a wineglass.

And nothing changed.

I peered around the room.
Inhaled.
It still reminded me of him.
The walls were still his favorite color,
The fridge still held the pictures he took,
All I could see or smell or touch reminded me of
Him.

But he wasn't there.

He still wasn't, and he would never come back
Because I kicked him out in a fit of madness
And I never realized how much I would miss him
And some stupid potion will never get me to stop-
knock knock
Hello?