By Y.A. Habibi
Date: 22 August 1999
Love Potion
When florid dreams wilt in their vase, then go, crush the 'she-loves-me- nots' between your fingers and inhale the sadness of her tears, and crumble your dried-up hopes for potpourri, and grind up all the stems of broken heartflowers for incense. Then take the images of your days in love and hide them in the closet near those motheaten clothes you wore back when with her, and hide them near your diary, tied tightly shut with a black ribbon, and placed near all those loveletters you've kept stacked in a box. Find then your tenderest memories that are all bottled up and drink the age-old wine of Cupid in great anguished gulps while you pray for love again to be made flesh, and made whole again to consume you. Do not try to explain the passing of your old love, but only bend slowly over the altar to ask forgiveness and be tortured by confession of sins not committed, then do your penance groping along in the dark, feeling for your unquenched passion's flame. When you feel a burning
rising within you, within a short, short time, you will find, new dreams will come, and by your bed you'll see a pretty new bouquet of love.
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