A brew

It bubbles and pops

emitting a fume so foul now,

with skeletons; exo, endo, and fur?

Stir the pot again, and again.

Add in salt, parsley, and carrot.

Churn thrice over.

Agreed to be filling nonetheless.

Not for me, but for her.

She lives and breathes beneath us.

Whispering all the time.

A rustled coo bumbling among the moss.

For in tune, she never misses.

"Who," I asked

"Her."

A shiver sharp like a needle traveled up my back.

"She just wants to dance with you."

And we danced.

I laughed, tears streaming down my face until I jerked. Cold.