Amateur alchemist lack the acumen
required for the potion I desire.
I seek one skilled in the craft,
who knows how to gauge the
proper ratio of oil, acid, juices,
sprinkled powders and spells
required to erase my memories.
Remove that image of the
supple curve of her tender skin,
hide from me thrill of her smile,
the ever-present joy of her presence.
Sweep away all knowledge of
life after the first whiff of her fragrance,
kill the pain of every day
lived since she left.
Written for The Sunday Whirl wordle.