Recipe for a Requiem: Chapter 1

Chop up three hearts, raw from the fridge,

And sizzle one in a pan called love,

Sprikle in some passion,

Add a dash of lust,

And trickle in some carmelized smiles,

Leave to soak in Joy marinara,

 

Steam another in a pot called hate,

Then tenderize it in fear,

Mangle it with buttered knives,

Then inject some bitter-sweet death,

Moisten with blood,

 

For the last heart,

Dunk it in some semi-congealed tears,

Then crumble some despair on top,

Mix in some foaming beers,

Coat the whole thing in loneliness,

Let it sit out to dry,

 

Serve in different bowls,

These three hearts,

Include some sides of painful silence,

And for extra zest, some suicides and tears.