I'm Willing Poem by Mark Heathcote

Cupid's arrow leaves us clutching our hearts.
It's a kind of open-heart surgery.
Needs -suturing and putting back together again.
But I am willing to take on all it encompasses.
I am willing to linger alone in the dark.
For Cupid's dart to strike, dead centre -my heart.
For me to feel that old mercury-needle-rising
I'm willing for my soul to undergo microsurgery.
I'm willing to bleed; let love in once more.
I'm willing to feel their cruel, extreme emotions.
I'm willing to fan the flames of the past.
Move on with both hands devotionally clasped.
I'm willing to tempt hatred once more.
And grasp at just one rose, a bleeding thorn.
Have my jugular torn out powerless in love?
I'm willing to fall back and share these dishes.
That's what love is, so say the misses.