Bullseye

God damn you, fools! Love me back!
I've more heart than the devil has in his collection
he so gloatingly keeps buried under
our possible ascension.
Chase after me! No! More haste!
I turn sour each hour you shower affection
on those who instist on begging like
children for unmerited attention.
I refuse! I'm woman, not waste!
If there are none more worthy, please, I implore
accept my stutters of affection
until your ears turn sore.
Like petals longing for the sun
I wait.
Each dart flies by
bullseye
and I
count.

One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three.