The Little Black Bottle

Trying to find the right kind of potion
The one to bring her love
I make it just as cautioned
Before I hand it to her
The little black bottle
I mix it with some of my own concoction
The one for certain death
And hover over her as I watch her drink it
And take her last humming breath

On and on this happens
But each morning I wake to find
She has risen also
And is very much alive