How many days had I been here?
Sitting at this table,
Watching the flowers wilt and die.
As he cooks me up his special brew.
Spices; herbs; stirred with a clear elixir.
My dear, this will fix your headache.
My love, your pain will dissipate.
My darling, you’re too excitable.
Let me ease your womanly discomforts.
But they were all beautiful lies.
A recipe for keeping me here.
Like the flowers.
I’m cast aside for his next target
He tells more beautiful lies,
To anyone who will listen.
It is all too easy.
by Sarah ©2017
Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Writing Prompt, July 16, 2017 – Fine Dining Kitchen Tricks