He hands you a bouquet of pink lilies, velvety soft beauties dripping dew. You put your face into the flowers to smell them, they lick your nose. He says “I’ve collected the tongues of all my lovers and arranged them just so.” You recoil as the petals move and wrap around one another.
You realize that until this moment you’d never considered what happens to lovers tongues when they aren’t loving you. You put the lover tongue bouquet in a decorative vase, fill it with water, and display it on the mantle. You enjoy the way the light hits them in the afternoon, mindful that one day your tongue will be a petal too, you hope for good light.