There was a time, there was a place,
when she felt not just a member of the human race
but a perfect one.... after all, she was loved;
but some sorts of 'love' are not enough.
How is it that the old saying goes?
- ah, yes, I remember, I think I know:
familiarity breeds contempt.
Whoever came out with that one, meant,
I think,
(though I may not be right)
that when Cupid's arrow is perfectly sent
the 'love' of day turns into night
as time descends,
and come the end
of any seeking conversation,
any aspiration to observation
of how the 'other half might feel'
that is... that is when life is real,
and time to retreat, to unreality.
- That is how it seems to me.
Tara Sloblock
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tara-1-cupid-nil/
