S.O.B

Using not one arrow but a thorny eleven
Cupid, love’s unwanted bastard of heaven
Curses me, when I should be forgiven!

One shot prized a glance, the second a thought,
Five more a few more looks were brought…
With the ninth a stanza was cheaply bought!

Like the eighth, the tenth was harmless,
But with the eleventh I was no longer so careless,
My heart bled, I lost reason and became reckless.

Living in hell yet still walking on open earth,
The sweet pain of love, the great living death
Love a misspelled evil in a different breath.

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