My fingers bleed from a heart shot

You must have read the poem by now.
Here is the story that inspired it. We must have all experienced those surreal moments of inexplicable emotional rapids like the love at first sight syndrome (if such a thing exists).
Well, my most recent emotional roller coaster happened on a trip to Hamburg to meet an old female friend who was visiting briefly for an academic workshop. On arrival, she was M.I.A. Apparently, still stoked on her first European experience, she was out soaking in the night life thrill and forgotten my time of arrival.
So I sat in the hotel lobby, gladly desolated, as I got entranced by the angel claddened in a silky dark robe who was sitting across me. She was engulfed in whatever was responsible for the flickering light emanating from her laptop screen and gracefully teasing her face. I chewed on my lip as words failed me, despite my silver tongue.

Fast forward the next few anxious and awkward minutes...
I eventually got her attention on the needy premise of reaching out to my party raving friend.

The poem hints at what ensued after I got her to look up, and let down my guard. Leaving me vulnerable to Cupids piercing arrow, which took me almost a decade back in time. To a moment when I didn't know any better to stop my heart from bleeding. We chatted through the next three hours, knowing that by Morning we'll just be radiowaves boucing of cell phone towers across the globe. It has been a year since that encounter, and we are still nurturing the seeds of the fruit from the forbidden tree in our bellies. Meanwhile, my fingers bleed from the wounds of cupids arrow, stuck in my heart.