He will write XO on your wrist,
Just to say goodbye with a kiss.
The Witch’s Cupboard
His heart is the color of charred lace,
so mysterious & hard to erase.
Words that taste of extinguished flames,
finding their way inside your veins.
He is made of dripping candle wax,
like a ghost that leaves open traps.
Dancing on antique floorboards,
he'll hand you aged potions as rewards.
Herbs dancing in the background
Black Peppercorn start the flame;
he only leaves you with a pen name.
He’ll write love letters from his mallow flower pen,
“see you soon,” but you don’t know when.
Chrysanthemum petals fall in the shape of hearts,
a gift before he parts.