Love

 I wonder why this darkness pierces me, deeper than that love bow that Cupid once shot and plunged though my heart. No the feelings in which roses blossom, Love? Yet this word is delicate towards ones tongues. Not one word to describe it. It's rattled in a prescription bottle I assume, sold to make one feel such pain and desire. But once we have it...we don't want it. We want to smolder it with the flames of hate to cover for ones love. We want it to suffocate and leave it to die, fend for it's life like a a baby lion. But once it's injected into it's back,caressing you and holding you deeply and never letting go.