Thursday, February 11, 2016

Underworld (edible poetry)

I miss you when you leave, my dear
I eat the fruit that kept you here
And dream of your scarlet lips
This room still carries your scent of rose
The perfume of flowers soaking into my clothes
Though spring is a foreign thing, to me
In this damp dark I wait eagerly
For you to return home to me
With stories of the light
Until then: I'll have a drink. 
Pomegranate sphere with a cocktail of wild rose vodka, lemon juice, and simple syrup

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