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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448204" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Cupid's Arrow</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The scab where Cupid's arrow had entered<br> had barely healed, leaving just a wisp of a scar<br> evident there; but the inner pain remained.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sounds of its shaft, its purple burning shaft<br>is still present<br> to my muffled memory<br> which flinches from its approaching sound<br> its whoosh, its dull thud<br> piercing a heart valve, <br> denying blood to my feverished brain<br> which sounded the alarm that love<br> seen by many as Cupids blessing<br> but for me it was an arrow emptying out<br> my life's blood<br> outside and down, plunging<br> drawn by gravity<br> falling onto the maroon carpeting<br> invisible almost<br> while all around me urged that I celebrate<br> but I knew too<br> that heart valves burst too in love's first<br> volley<br> and that Cupid<br> is too, a mixed blessing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But how to remove an embedded shaft<br>without causing the wound to shed one's very life blood, <br>or is it best to leave it in place, count the bliss<br>and ignore the tremendous event<br>many saw as unvarnished and good? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why must Cupid's arrow steal from me my identify<br> in favor of a new merging one? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why must Cupid's arrow involve blood? <br>And who is to explain the scab and pain<br>the wound brings<br>when love leaves<br>that hollow, <br>now bleeding vacuum, <br>which grows a scab<br>sometimes leaves a scar<br>plastered over with<br>urgings of 'you must move on.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is not that love is bad. It is not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is that it is transforming and the transforming<br>sometimes leaves me without a me I had known all my life<br>and the new me is merged with another<br>if they leave<br>I wonder what then what will I be left with? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who has not pondered this? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life then is the road traveled<br>strewn with Cupid's discarded arrows<br>and pained souls marching.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, If I hear yet again</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the shaft's approach<br> that whooshing sound<br> that Cupid's arrow makes<br> I know, I once again<br> will bare my chest<br> and take its plunge full on<br> because that is how Love is Made.<br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I remind myself of all of this as I prepare for the date.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lonnie+Hicks">Lonnie Hicks</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448204" data-title="A Cupid's Arrow de Lonnie Hicks" data-description="The scab where Cupid's arrow had entered
 had barely healed, leaving just a wisp of a scar
 evident there; but the inner pain remained.

The sounds of its shaft, its purple burning shaft
is still present
 to my muffled memory
 which flinches from ..."></div>
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