Conversation with Cupid

Love dogs you like hunger and
when you shoot, you cut my heart
with your heart, a heart of flame.
Your sticks of love burn cuts
And I leak like rain drops, hide
in layers between layers.

“Love you, mess,” you whisper when you shoot.

I ask you for rest.
I ask you to end the hunt.
I ask you for mercy.
I am a cup of thistle.

The hunt for you rose and I woke faint,
layered with thistle. I cut a divide
through your heart
for you are wind,
not thistle.

“Love you, best,” I whisper with each breath.

I give a rose drop, a watch tick, a cup of care.
I give my hunt, my flame for you to the rain.
I give you mercy as you ask,
and save the whisper.
The sticks drop and rest.

Watch the end of hunger,
the end of love,
the end of my heart.
The flame cut.