The day I met her, cupid tried to be a prankster.
Either confused or inspired,
With confidence he fired an arrow that had a poisonous tip.
High above the arrow split
Air, tracing a parabola,
From point A pranksters bow
To point B, me,
Under its vertex, she appeared.
(And) She appeared quite perfect.
Arrow landed point blank on its target
And she stood out to me;
Like the first flower to stretch its limbs
Towards the sun, so that it can color spring,
Like peace on a morning
Animated by birds that hover and sing,
She stood out to me.
She knows magic.
I know this because whenever she's nearby,
butterflies find their way inside my stomach,
They fly up and down, sometimes round,
Always melting when she smiles or frowns,
She is magic.
She is a fairy tale princess
around which luscinias sing and fly.
I looked into her eyes one day
And saw their colors change,
From green to brown and green again,
As the sound of bottles,
Being placed inside of a brown paper bag,
Awoke me to hear her sigh;
"Forty seven fifty five."
Quite perfect, she appeared.
Beauty works as a cashier in a liquor store
Somewhere in Brooklyn, New York.
Somewhere across the street,
Cupid drinks,
Pulling pranks and tricks on fools like me
That plant seeds on grounds
Bound to make your blood pump break.
Sincere and clueless, so I have faith;
If god made and showed me her face
There must be a reason;
Other than me playing the part of a buffoon
Whose heart pumps beats to the tune of a voice,
That makes another man rejoice, when it sings.
Cupid should have known
That Beauty had a king
Before he pulled the bow's string,
but he knew,
He knew Beauty had a king,
because he tied them together.
So if he's her king,
then she's his queen,
And I am just a jester.
Just a pawn.
Unwillingly playing the part of dreamer,
And hopeless romantic, paying the consequences
For cupids antics and idea of recreation.
I'm stationed,
Like a candle slowly burning
with a spherical tip, in the solace
And darkness of space.
I'm attempting to catch her out in the stars.
I'm stretching myself beyond the limits
Of the water based case that is my body
To catch a star
And the beauty
My mother sees me with in her dreams.
I'm trying to catch a fairy tale princess,
Who is also a magician, but unfortunately,
Someone else's queen.
I'm trying to catch a star
That gravitates beyond me.
Cupid shot three arrows,
And a part of me regrets the third,
had to land on me,
because I comprehend,
That karma works within a deeper span of time
than I have or understand.
I'm trying to touch a star,
Though it will surely burn my hand.
The day I met her, cupid tried to be a prankster.
Either confused or inspired,
With confidence he fired an arrow that had a butterfly tip.
High above the arrow split
Air, tracing a parabola,
From point A pranksters bow
To point B, me.
She appeared beneath the parabola's vertex,
and still, she seems quite perfect.
