Boil water, hot enough to curtain the mirrors in steam and drag regrets from your pores

Then steep:

Chamomile (patience)

Marjoram (joy)

Thyme (courage)

Rosemary (love)

Conceived from neither stone nor ink

This ancient recipe lurks, unwritten, in grimoires and cookbooks alike –

For mages and witches and bakers and whores

A promise of the most sacred romance

Sweet girl, scared to pine for yourself

Pinch the flesh of your nose, and let the force of your fingertips

Grow flushed peonies (compassion) on its bridge as you tilt your head back

Fill the carafe of your body to the crook of your neck

Now stir,

Hair swinging back, hips swirling

A centripetal force inscribing

Orbital paths for new stars, planets, and other heavenly bodies

Bleeding endless ellipses around you - they incandesce

An exponential enchantment

Forgive

And repeat the incantation

I am mine.

I am mine.

I am mine.