270: How Eros' Arrows Distort

They tumble through the heather,

their eyes weeping the delighted tears

of hearts healed around old arrows

that refuse to budge.

Now an embedded part of them,

their world is permanently tinted

where the arrows leech their hearts.

There is red in all they see;

hot and cold are two things merged

in purple. The heather stings,

fisted flowers flaring about them,

clinging to their clothes and hair,

catching in the dry and prickly undergrowth.

They have become blind

to the embers of discarded cigarettes,

as purple as the rest,

in their tiny tinted world.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.