Cupid Painted Blind

A wonder of why I cannot see love is conspired within the grasps of the one called Cupid.

As he is too blind, the ones he projects with ecstacy-tipped arrows are soon dumbfounded and blind to the treacheries of love.

I myself have fallen; the blood-spattered inculpapble.

Twice broken into a dark divide.

Bewitched by the desire, as passion is as lunacy.

If I can run, then I can hide beyond the memories held underoath by wretchedness.

A pain heavily secreted by defilers is felt and brought unto others with no intention.

As I have no intention to hesitate a taste of her on my tongue.

This moment might have been complete,

I only wish her picture was not painted blurred and blind.

Advertisements

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s