Pain Is
Eros' bullets missed, I think,
or maybe I'm too numb to feel?
Maybe Eros didn't aim correctly.
Maybe Eros simply missed.
But the wounds that bleed
are not a lie. I've been hit
by lead, by glass, by steel.
Inches away, my heart is beating.
Maybe Eros simply missed.
I wonder why pink is the color,
when Eros should be red; blood-stained.
His hands hover
lightly on the trigger,
and pain rips through my being.
Steel sinks deep
into my body. I feel the
foreign pain within, and lightly
like a lover's caress.
A bullet stops my heart from beating.
Eros' bullets missed, I think,
or maybe I'm too numb to feel?
But the wounds that bleed
are not a lie.
All love is pain.
Eros really never missed.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Through Tinted Lenses
Poesía"The writings of a convoluted iconoclast are stored within. Will you understand him?" Musingly yours, Staccato Beats
