An Unhappy Concoction

This is one of my early (and only) experiments with the recipe poem. I kind of liked it, although obviously I wasn't in the brightest mood at the time.

It's just a smattering
of butterfly wings, steeped
in a cupful of tears.
Stir well, with a few drops
of bitters if you wish,
then mix with a twisted
stomach and a squeezing
of the heart.

               Best served when
least expected; you'll know
it's made right when you feel
that tightness in your chest.