Apiary Nights!

I entertained Cupid's standard dream  
Saint Valentine induced in me    
Where both were drinking Bailey's cream...    
And celebrating amity.    
    
They had careers and sexy wives    
And perfect homes in heaven above    
For spying on our mortal lives...    
Of overcomplicated love.    
     
Every day they would conspire    
To clog the web with another post    
About blue pills for more desire    
From the father, son, and holy ghost.    
     
But all the while what went unmarked    
Was what it was chicks really dug,    
Which was for Colonel Angus well embarked    
To give lady love an ample tug.    
     
"Aye, there's the rub"...As Shakespeare said,    
Only with a different meaning,    
Where Cupid's shaft, when playing dead,    
Has his tongue soon intervening!    
     
Turns out rarely will a lass object    
To cunningly lingual play    
Whenever Cupid's darts neglect    
Aphrodite's wild array!    
     
And oh what a target for that dart!    
     
But sometimes that shaft is not enough.    

For proper access to her heart    
He takes that wild array...like snuff.    
     
For Saint Valentine knows full well,    
As well as Cupid ever did,    
That ladies make the heaven smell...    
     
All pollinators hope to bee amid.