A healer of wounds or point to maim,
cupids draw’s reluctant of aim.
Bow’s untied but the bind pains,
the arrow pulled but the blood remains.
I close my eyes and the future’s blurred.
I call her name but none is heard.
I feel her touch when I’m alone.
A smile returned no longer shown.
My head still turns tho now a twist.
My heart still beats tho now half missed.
And this Valentines I wish not to start,
for a hole filled makes not a whole heart.