Analysis of Concoction

Muddle your way, my way
Crushed opium poppies
and bitter twisted leaves to make tea for
you and your aching mind,
I wrapped you up in paper, limbs folded and elbows poking,
string tied to keep you in place. Wanting you to never change,
condensation forms on my window,
veiling the room in which you will stay, never moving,
always there.
Moonbeams, gentle light. Eyes closing and breath slowing, you feel the heat.
Fragile wings sprout from your delicate shoulder blades, sharp and all mine.
Float a distance but not too far, don’t disappear but go further
away.