L’Artisan Parfumeur, Timbuktu

L’Artisan Parfumeur, Timbuktu

You feel first in your heart.

It swells and tightens like a mango skin.   That is where we start.

We cast a spell as ancient as Eros itself, as true as the blood in your veins and the fire in your eyes when you speak his name.

Toss a handful of pepper berries to the floor. That’s your pulse all over the place.

Catch one and crush it. That bright little burst in your chest whenever you see him comes next.

Your breath comes in warm little wisps like an incense stick.

Light one now and think of the way his skin smells of straw after a summer rain and his hair like honey and spice.

Conjure his essence like the green heat of cardamom, the way it fills your mouth with fever.

He will come before the sunrise.












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