I am aiming arrows at a heart that can’t be conquered.
Stupid, sapphic Cupid can’t understand why my charms are disarmed by her.
My heart played,
like she plays her video games,
sapphire stare so focused on the screen,
never at me,
occasionally at the cats that slink past the cream coffee table,
on the hunt for hugs that she willingly provides,
fair hair tumbling over her eyes.
I make a coffee,
stirring in milk,
watching the purring protectors that circle her,
and finally she smiles,
a cup of warmth in her hands,
warmth in her cheeks as the cats let their guard down,
and she hands me the second player pad.
This is enough. This is perfect.