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Teodora Pavel Jun 19
There is an arrow, locked away
somewhere, silenced
My heart has felt it, its caress
True consolation of one's life
That arrow, buzzing vibrato
after so many windows of my soul,
will break your chest, will
strike you dead with no notice.
Of all the things we’ve shared together,
I will always remember…
The first time we hung out,
And how I had the best time with you.
How happy I felt getting to know you.

Our first kiss,
And how your lips felt against mine,
The first time you told me that you loved me,
And how that moment became a memory
I’ll never forget.

I love everything about you,
And anything that reminds me of you.
Because for me,
It will always be you…
You mean so much to me. Nothing can change how I feel.
liakey Oct 2021
absent from my life,
but dancing forever in my mind.

preserved perfectly:
idealized and beautified,
immortal, god-like.

wanting to let go,
yet holding on too tight.

memories, exaggerated:
they haunt me,
notoriously unreliable.

close my eyes;
take me back in time…
before I was bloodied by his arrow.
Rewrite of “?”
Blood on Cupid’s Arrow

There is blood on Cupid’s Arrow
From where I yanked it from my heart
I refuse to fall in love again
It makes for extremely painful art
Part twenty-three....
kevin wright May 2021
The samurai fingers opened
In recall the bow floated forwards
Feathers freed its deadly path

Flying through the thermals
Spinning in its own vortex
Beckoning my soul

Both eyes opened
Cherry blossom floated across its path
The arrow parted life and death

Its point struck home
No escape
A fleeting pain of renewal

Pinned at the center of Adinkrahene
Civilisation awaits
Farewell, my demise is draped with its philosophy

A second arrow strikes deeply
Tainted by Eros poison
Love conquers all
The world today is a place of reality. The world of the past was a place of philosophy. A marriage of eastern and western philosophy.
Alicia Moore Apr 2021
With the point of my arrow as sharp as my jaw,
my draw back and backtalk are equally as piercing.
Anna Maria Mar 2021
The sturdy wood protrudes from my shoulder,
My fingertips trace the engraved cylinder
As my eyebrows come together in confusion.

The moon cries,
It’s tears sweeping into the cracks of the cement.
The sliver words shine in the light,
My eyes ache as it stings my eyes.

It reads words of condolences,
Listing lies and regrets,
Ones that have not occurred yet.

I curled my hand around the bark
And pull out the arrow.

I see why they are sorry now.
My knees are cushioned in the soft grass,
My shoulder contrasted this pleasant comfort.

You shot me with your apologies,
Knowing what would happen if I would not accept them.

But now your quiver is empty,
No more apologies sink into my skin.
For the job is finished.
It is too late for you to say sorry for you planned this.
Hammad Mar 2021
My Heart
was like a
And You,
(The cupid)
How Cruel of you
when you didn't flinch,
drew the bow
and Shot
anonymousthinker Jan 2021
An arrow flying through the sky
does it hit it's mark, as it passes by

just like a shooting star
such grace and beauty

who was the archer
did he shoot for pleasure, or duty

But never will we know
for the body is so slow

compared to the speed
of a fast-moving arrow
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