Blue Lips

January 25, 2011
I met a witch,
And she tried to sell me
Love potions, enchanted bones,
And anything in sets of threes.

I started to walk away,
But then,
“Ah, now I’ve got
Something for you.”
I turn and look into her pot.
A liquid that is blue.

“It predicts the future,
Believe it or not.
Maybe your heart will grow sutures
And you’ll have a brand new start.”

“But things could go badly,
And you life begin to sour.
Like milk that has been curdling
For many-a-hours.”

“If you take a sip,
You’ll then be able to know
What your life will be like
Through sunshine and through snow.”

She already
Had me intrigued.
“So what’s the cost of it?
My soul? My youth?”
“Oh no dear,
It’s completely free.”

“Take this spoon
And sip a tiny bit.
If it tastes like sour milk,
I’m sure you’ll have a fit.
Bit if it tastes sweet,
Like that of wine,
Your life will get better with age.
And that’s the bottom line.”

I take her wooden spoon.
As she instructed,
I put a little drop on my tongue
Of the brew she concocted.

I taste nothing,
And then look at her.
I take a few steps,
But everything begins to blur.

She poisoned me,
That evil witch!
If I wasn’t dead right now,
I’d do much more than call her a “b****”!

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