Cupid seems to like me,
to like making fun of me.
He enjoys to throw around his arrows
with not much careful thought or good judgement
but simply for his own amusement.

Cupid seems to like me,
to like playing with me.
He enjoys to chase me around in time and space
with his arrows always carved too deep in my heart
most of times.

Cupid seems to like me,
to like torturing me.
Since his arrows always seem to miss the other living soul
while if i dare to pull out mine
it will make me bleed to death
from loving
too much.

My biggest fear is falling in love again
But when your right in front of me all I see is it.
Always there to leaned an ear when ever I needed it.
And always knew just what to say to make me believe again.
You Push me further then myself and build my confidence
Cause when you looked at me, this armor around me melts
Can find me running from my past, telling me not to fall again
End up falling in your lap, **** Cupid’***** me again

“Oh, Cupid!
Give me your bow and arrow
You are doing an absurd job.
How hard is it to hit the heart of my beloved?”

“Here, I’ll shoot it myself.
I’ll aim and let the arrow fly.
Look. Look how it sinks into her chest.
And watch. Watch as she falls head over heels in love with me.”

“Oh, what?
I missed?
Okay.
I’ll try again.”

“No?
Not this time?
Again.
Can I try again?”

“**** it!
Why?
Why won’t it work?
Why can’t I aim right?”

“What?
I can’t control it?
It’s a force beyond my control?
It’s a power I don’t have?”

“Why then?
Why then!?”

“Why did you shoot me?
Why’d you hit me right in the heart?
What was that for, Cupid?
What was that for!?”

“If you won’t hit her...
If I can’t shoot her...
If she will not fall in love with me—
If I cannot make her fall in love with me..."

“Then why?
Why did you aim at me?
What is this sick game you’re playing?
Tell me Cupid, what is it?”

Palms sweaty,
Knees weak,
Pulse beating-
Faster and faster.

All I can think of
Is you and I don't
Know what to do-
I hate being in love.

He is a pen,
I am paper,
Great ideas we create.
He is the bow,
I am the arrow,
Cupid's love is our cup.
He is the current,
I am the switchboard,
Our love flows without a hitch.
He is the hand,
I am the glove,
Nothing can separate us.
He is the melody,
I am the lyric,
Together we make a beautiful song.
He is the strength,
I am the love,
We face life with courage.
He is the body,
I am the soul,
A harmonious whole,
Soul mates.

A collection of ‘Love is…’ Poetry
Bittersweet


Love is the Wow! moment;
The second of realization.
Love is the thunderbolt;
Mesmerization.
Love is Cupid’s arrow,
Finding its destination.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Cupid is a hard worker.
He constantly juggles
the loved
the want-to-be-loved
the unloved
and the unlovable.

Cupid is a hard worker.
He constantly makes lots
of matches
of pairs
of duos
and of partners.

Cupid has his own heart.
Is he, himself, one of
the loved
the want-to-be-loved
the unloved
or the unlovable?

Cupid has his own heart.
Does he, too, have
a match
a pair
a duo
or a partner?

Cupid is a matchmaker.
He finds love for you and me,
and I can't help but wonder
if he's alone as alone can be.

he took love's arrow out
of the quiver launching it
at she who he did revere
with deep devotion