That's why Eros shoots you with an arrow. It's supposed to hurt. Damn you love. Why couldn't you tickle me with a feather duster or something? Or maybe wrap me up in a warm, fuzzy blanket? Why did I have to be falling? Hurting. Afflicted. Drunken. Infected. Blind. Why does it have to leave me helpless? Vulnerable. And maybe even a little confused. Dear Love, why must you strip me down to nothing? Why must you fool me? Wound me. Abandon me. Dear Love, why do you beat me? Sting me. Dear Love, keep me from shattering to pieces. Make me feel whole again. The hollowness is deafening...
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