Cupid's Crutches

A poem...

Evidently I'm simply limping by in this life 

on crutches crafted from cupid's broken arrows; 

clambering, 

awkwardly, yet cautiously 

on cliffs carved from the crash of our colliding charismas now buried in bitter barrows. 

 

And I can't quite tell if I'm psycho or not, thinking I've turned cupid into a psychopomp; 

but to me love has always been this way, 

precarious in the best of ways, 

but a slow walk all the same.