Drunk Arrows ?

At 28
she thought she mastered
the art of emotional control
or so she tells herself

She has rollercoastered
between the natural highs and manic lows
she even basked on the shores of stability once
till an earthquake shook her from within
broke her ribs and then brainwashed her

She was walking one day after work
it was dark and witnessed a quarrel between lovers
she saw the woman boiling with energy, gesturing
invisible negative auras and throwing them at him

she wondered, how it felt
has she become immune to such emotions
have they fled from her stable waters, knowing
there’s a layer of turmoil that’s covered?

She saw the man, standing there,
helpless, as if lost in translation
as if she was speaking a different language
but she saw the way he looked at her,
the way he marveled at the protruding vein
in her forehead

She smiled and kept walking past the storm
she knew it wasn’t her territory but it’s missed

Until she got home,
she played her record, that one song
her roommate walked out dancing to the tunes
she joined, giggling and laughing

“what’s going on?
I see your heart through that dank shirt
I see it regained enough muscle to beat again”

She told her, she feels it too
it’s foreign to her, it’s intimidating
she’s never been a softie, her shell has been smoothed
by enough waves to grow strong
she giggled and swayed to the sitar

“Cupid’s drunk isn’t he?” she said
“I just think” she closed her eyes
to enjoy that part in the song
Then she resumed
“he’s throwing arrows here and there
I think he’s just bored and his arrows are feeble
just like this phase, so might as well enjoy it”

Her roommate giggled
a laugh that reminded her of when she was 16
and she just discovered the “emotions”
those that make your heart stumble on strong beats
when he calls, those that emit pink onto your cheeks
those that make you sit on your bed
facing the ceiling, and just smiling!

“I like it though,
it reminds us, that
some part
of that thing
is still there
even if it’s just
a temporary

They sat there
on the bed
nostalgic about their 16’s
boiling within
their mature bodies
enjoying the hits of
cupid one by one
as his arrows hit their chests
and drowns in with every
gulp they take

hope gangloff sisters



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