Cupid must have been drunk

It must have been drunk that night,
Shot just one of us, and with a needle instead.
In daylight or in moonlight, its sharp end
finds its way to me, scratching for cells outside
the heart. To put it under the microscope.

Whoever owns the microscope must need a needle.
My eye is a piece of glass, i am getting a hangover.

Why shoot with a needle, a blunt one at that,
Strike me with one shot, will you? Reincarnation
exists, for eyes to search for someone else
who has been struck. Not just any unwounded soul.

Not one who calls my name, thinking that alone
will bring comfort, or that smile. Cold as
stone. Warmth is temporal, conditional, will not
reach your core. Who are you? It's a question.

But recently i found i am good at spinning a world out for myself.

Besides, it's only what i felt then, at that time.

Changes.