Poetry : Missed?

Missed?

An arrow to the eye

A beating to the heart

An act of tenderness for the soul

And Cupid laughs alone.

Under his breath, he can’t help but

Whisper that once again he has me at his feet.

He rejoices and makes me weep,

Although happiness is all I feel.

On the 31st year of my life,

I was walking on a cloud,

Knowing that he was there,

Evading his every move,

Turning against the very arrow that had made me

Cry before for my love.

I could see that he was there.

I noticed him in the smile of a quiet lady

And in the shape of a beautiful silhouette.

But not for me, Cupid. Not this time. Not yet.

He came close to me and tried to shoot, but he only got

My chest, close to my heart, but no cigar my dear winged friend.

Then I escaped far and hid in the mountains, but after a while

There he was again.

This time, he got my hand.

And I was more gentle than I had ever been to human kind.

And that is how I remained.

But he missed nonetheless.

I laughed. He laughed. We gazed at each other and before he tried again, I escaped.

I ran away to the sea,

And there he was, hovering over the waves.

I did not move and said,

To go ahead and aim at me.

He smirked at me, pointed to my heart

Then to my eye and as he aimed, I was petrified

For I was too familiar with the emotions that I was about to feel.

He lowered his bow.

He laughed. I laughed and we both said:

Maybe next time, then. And he frolicked away.

It’s my turn to begin the search for her again.

Poetry