The red-inked quill
spills the rage of love,
as Cupid tumbles from heaven,
his arrows piercing hearts—
searing love’s tender face,
bleeding its fragile wrists.
Love dissolves in a dark, creamy syrup,
its poison rising like mist,
twisting through veins
with the hunger to avenge,
to wound, to kill—
all in love’s forsaken name.
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