The roses on earth are colored pink, yellow and white
Somehow it is always the red that them people crave-
Layered and beautiful, tender yet fierce
Erotically scarlet- so has he been told
The cupid struck the arrow
But he understands not
Not blind, but colorblind-
The rose he sees is not red.
Two people meeting together,
At times even ‘some’ becoming one
The usuals, straights, queer, extraterrestrial what not-
All the glitters, butterflies, drama and hate
The cupid knows what did he create
But he feels not.
The magic in the air, a spell hard to get rid of
Red flags decorated as dainty-
A little too in love to ignore
A sweet disaster worth the taste, a tempting high worth the chase
The cupid sees the forbidden fruit
But he desires not.