Mistletoe

[Brownlie]

 

We’ve all forgotten that a mild toxin
placed above the hearth is ordered to bid lips,
But embalmed potpourri’s that circles in infinity
Is not cessation manifested in a merry corpse.
The end, which is a singular of many, is in the couples.
Destined for the mistletoe,
their odds increase with years together.

This is very interesting. "Above the hearth" makes me think of a forgotten urn, and you're implying that what matters is love and living before the end.

I like how I can't get a firm grasp of your poems intent because it makes me read it again and again and draw my own conclusions.

Do you mean to have an apostrophe after "potpourri"?

Apostrophe = typo. Don't get me started on those Urns and their paradoxical moments of ephemeral passion cast in marble.