Split Shaft

Second contact is
Furtive, crisp, a sudden flash.
Forced eye to eye, soul to soul,
Long enough for the archer's gaze
To sight the target.

The fabric of myself is wrung and twisted.
Wracked by emotion, I'm
Perched on the edge of our bed,
Weak in the knees.  Weakness gathers.
Tears travel the lines on my palms
Leaving bitter deposits to corrode fate.

Rusted nails, driven into the corners
Stretch my many folds flat.
Exposing the bull's-eye to
Memory's whispers, fluttering at the edges.
Helpless and pinned, the surface shivers.

Eros grins, sly and fluid.  Increasing the tension,
He draws feathers to cheek, ready to release
Cupid's Arrow.
Desperately I think to blink or look away
Ere a second shaft can split the first.