Sunday Short: Out of Love and in War.
By Sarah Cate Anstey, Jul 16 2017 07:30AM
They play fair, taking it in turns.
First he flits about, piercing hearts in the dark,
He relishes the thrill of the chase,
The rush of blood, the flutter of wings.
But when wings are torn and hearts shattered,
She rips the blindfold from his eyes
And forces him to face the truth of his adoration.
She takes up his bow and brings down his tenderness
There is no warmth in her darts, no fuzzy feeling of affection.
Not to kill, to suffer, to wound.
Relentless in her pursuit,
Retracing his steps
Out of love.
© Copyright Sarah Catherine Anstey 2017