If cupid’s arrow found me, maybe then I would’ve known,
The unspoken poetry that lingered in my head,
Will fade in silence, forever left unsaid.
If Cupid’s arrow found me, maybe then you would’ve asked me


parallel valentines never get to touch
held the words as the letters hush
as we danced in the quiet to the echos of your heart in mine
spaces between our fingertips never intertwine

handcuffed, blinded in hindsight
but your soothing mythical kisses hold me tight
escape reality, into ambivalence prose
unveiled morning, I will love you until I decompose

enduring this serene adoration
nothing else wanted, you're my occupation
brown depths look into mine
exploring the treasured island send chills down my spine

*
hold me close for an
uncelebrated celebration
that's all it's been for me


simply it's all that it'll ever be

By: Zoulaikha

Cupid, you foulest of the archers
How you lodge your arrows deep
It is like a fire burning my heart
And I have no room to bleed
Apollo archer of poetry
Please pierce this dart in my chest
That I might write this poem in blood
And with fatal words, confess
She never loved me at all
And I have no reason to persist

everything was set into place just like I planned
I found myself the perfect spot to hit my targets
without them noticing me from a higher up distance
I can’t be seen though or I’ll blow my cover  
from afar there are two people in a isolated area
a great place for me to carry out this lovely mission
without any witnesses interfering
I take my “bow” out of my suitcase and start to reload my “arrows”
I line up my first shot to the first person’s frontal lobe
with one push of the trigger
my love magic pierced through one of them with ease
the other screamed in a great terror
but don’t worry they’ll meet up with them soon
as I quickly reload my “arrow” I see them run away in fright
they try to signal for help but I can’t let that happen
with a quick shot my love magic went through the back of their head
now both of their souls can finally interact in another life
“did you carry out the job “ my boss said through my walkie talkie
“affirmative sir” I replied
with each mission I carry out I do it with love
even if it ends with me being on the wanted posters

I should have sent my love letters to Cupid
And ask Destiny for the right time.
Yet stubborn as I am, I remain still…

Some loves are too shallow for me to dive into
So, I remain in the shoreline,
always testing the waters…

Someday you'll figure~
You'll figure out that I love-
That I love you so~

Cupid’s aim was off, he lost one of his arrows
in the wrong heart he shot; I'd had my fair share –
of these scars painted on my skin; all the best
intentions being lost, while adding value to someone
just to add up the cost of their love…

Cupid’s aim was off, he forgot to wear his glasses
while on the job; giving me extra weight thinking
about my past – all the pain left behind, we all need to
move forward, but I still want to kick Cupid right in
the ****!

Popular invitations
Sent from heralds of punch and perfume
Simple news for a lonely intimation
When asking is a favored voice to loom

Generosity, and the stir of deed
Done with sorrow, as a future has been
See the wish of gaiety, of me...
The miracle of need, is but a strength to sing

Sincerity asked, what has a luck seen for the better of others?
And with the delicate truth to share, can we see the baring lot?
So exposed, so triumphant for a quiet hope, come of age to bother
The very routes of dismay, a looking how, that has joy for now?

And the light has fed the cause, of reasons conscience?
Risk and tenacity running so fast, for a truth to dwell...
Upon the seclusion we sake an hour, of something greater than prescience
And the fate of it, a happier draw of attention, to a reach still...

As we thought, a marvel of sincerity and furies with a moment to tell
The world is a sour passion, come of distance as a reward for life
In the details and the wayward way we make spirit to fulfil
When notion is a curious live, for something greater than hatred's sight?

An arrow pinched
Between delicate fingers,
Gently nocked, but aiming true,
Pulled taut against the bowstring.

It sings through the air,
Harmonious, but decisive,
And it strikes silently,
Knowing only one destination.

...And so begins Cupid's hunting season.