Arrows of Love, Wounds of Me
I pray that love would never find me again.
I beg Cupid to aim his arrows somewhere else, anywhere but at me.
I pray I never fall in love again.
Because the truth is… even when it ends on good terms, it still feels like a knife in the chest.
We ended quietly, without shouting, without hate, without breaking each other’s pieces further.
And yet here I am, lying awake in the dark,
feeling every memory like it’s pressing against my ribs.
The laughter, the little smiles, the late-night talks… they were beautiful.
But beautiful hurts just as much as ugly.
And now I have to let it go.
I have to release someone I still want to hold.
I have to accept that the person I love… is no longer mine to love in the way I want.
I curse the gods of love for making us capable of feeling so deeply,
for teaching us how to soar, only to let us fall.
I curse every arrow that once promised happiness and now promises loss.
I am hurt.
I am disappointed.
I am tired.
And yet… even in this ache, I’m learning.
Learning that love can end without hatred.
Learning that letting go doesn’t erase the beauty we once shared.
Learning that even a hollow chest can still beat, even a bruised heart can still hope.
But tonight… tonight I let myself hurt fully.
I let myself grieve the version of us that existed.
I let myself cry for the version of me that thought forever was possible.
Because feeling this—pain, longing, bittersweet regret—is proof.
Proof that I loved deeply, honestly, fully.
And maybe one day, I’ll look back and smile.
Maybe one day, the ache will feel like a story I survived, not a wound I carry.
But not tonight. Tonight, it’s just me, the quiet dark, and the echo of a love I cannot hold.
