In my search for tranquility,
I stumble upon a path,
Unknowingly,
This is an opportunity,
A once in a lifetime chance.
It seems mildly enigmatic,
But still quite nurturing,
As if created by humans,
But perfected by mother nature.

Eventually I come upon a bridge.
Strong, yet lonely.
Archaic, yet full of life.
I cross this bridge,
Unaware of my destination,
Yet sure of an insightful journey.
Then I find myself in a dilemma,
A fork in the path.

One side seems wider,
Full of life with a quicker tempo.
The other is less broad,
Almost harsh, and dead.
Which should I choose?
A trail full of life...

Or death?

Without a second thought…
Death is my option.

This path was full of thorns,
And small shrubs with little life,
But I trudged my way through every obstacle.
Eventually, I began to see light, and creatures…

Life.

I saw everything tranquil upon the path of death.
I finally found what I had been looking for.
All I had to do was,
Go through death,

To receive life and tranquility.

Heartbreak.
The only word to describe it is “Indescribable”. It is like nothing you can ever experience. It’s almost as if you are mourning the loss of a part of your soul. Like someone stole a fragment of you.
Seeing the one that used to be your everything with someone else, smiling. Happy. And there’s nothing you can do about it. They don’t want you anymore. For whatever reason, you no longer mean anything to them. They have a new muse. You can’t help but stare, captivated by their beauty that you’d once succumbed… yet still nothing is more beautiful. Captivated by memories, by the “what ifs”, the thought of “us”.
Heartbreak is unique. Almost an art form. Beauty. It’s a phenomenon to see someone that was once so cheerful just change… become something that you’d never think they’d become, then months later become a completely new person.
Heartbreak. The only word to describe it, is “indescribable”.

Long days seem so much longer.
Distance does not make the heart grow fonder.
You’ve conquered the empire of my subconscious.
Your crusade so short,
Yet I hope your reign continues for eons.

We’re far past passive flatteries,
Instead, we fill each other’s hearts with vows.
You mean them now,
But what about a few months?
What if you decide I’m not what you want?

The torment I am slowly approaching,
Consumes my distant soul.
I can hear the sounds of futuristic loathing,
From when you decide this love has taken it’s toll.

So tell me.
How can I pay this inevitable toll?
How can I save us from Cupid’s malicious tyranny?

His arrow is too far lodged within me,
I cannot remove it.
I can only push it farther and farther
Into my heart until it falls out of my back.

But this arrow, trenchant.
Cupid, the sharpest of marksmen.
Yet colorblind, he is.
He sees not what colors his targets represent.
He draws his bow for the pure love of marksmanship.

Sometimes, yet not often,
He will hit the intended target.
But the odds are scarce.
His subjects are often punctured,
And connected to one whom reciprocated Fate’s desire.

Yet this time…
This time…
Cupid must have hit a target of Fate’s approval.
For thrice he has missed.
This time He and Fate are in sync.

This wound may stretch over time,
But the arrow shall remain firmly lodged within my *****,
***** and immovable.
Until you kick it through my backside.

But until then,
I can only endure.
I can only be woo wounded.
I can only survive,
Another ambush of the militant called Cupid.


But I will do it for you,
For by you,
I’ve been so divinely seduced.
Wooed by your lips.
Not by your kiss,
But by the music,
Which your mandibles so express.

I desire not to seal this wound,
But to evade its’ repercussions.
For I have endured a similar wound thrice.

He is winged as if an angel,
Yet Was Lucifer not once an angel as well?

Cupid is an impostor.
A spy of Agony, himself.
He prays on the young, the old, the strong, and the weak.
He cares not who he obliterates in his crusades.
He is a bloodthirsty heathen.
He makes scoundrels of Saints,
And Harlots of Housewives.
Saint Valentine is no Saint.
He is Satan’s nightmare.

At first, his arrows are ecstasy,

But like a cancer,
His poison-saturated arrows
Seep deep within every crevice of your body.
They consume you as if enriched with ******.
And eventually rot within your *****
Until it is nothing but dust and a memory.
One day I will assassinate Fate’s Malicious militant,
The one we call Cupid.