To Find An Arrows Pinpoint Of Weakness…

Love cuts through, cowardly, courage. To find the arrows pinpoint-weakness Where it can draw drops of crimson blood Eking out its Sires; Bow-wielding warrior's emptiness The taste of which burns; florescent. With a numbing, pain against their lips. A bulls-eye dagger plucks a fondant- Heart; kisses duel like two warring ships. Love is a victim of courage and disgrace Too shallow at times to be a lived-in face Its nonchalance sings like a nightingale! Derision begs always the wind in its sail. Love takes a lemon and makes lemonade Love is a big old hurricane. It lifts And somehow levitates everything that's staid Skywards like a cannonball, in magical rifts.