Broken By Cupid's Arrow

He who delivered

Her to me

Has snatched her back again.

He is the cold frost

That has stolen the flower,

The malady that tore

Through her chest,

Ripped it apart,

Broke open my heart

For good measure.

He is the wind that stole

The candle's flame away

Both the night we first met

And now.

But this time, rather than

A pair of lovers and a "we"

Being left in his wake,

There is only a broken, weeping man;

Me.