“The Kiss” by Antonio Canova.

I cannot have you,

he tells me. 

I cannot love you,

he says.

The words echo,

Over and over

In my mind, 

Forever etched into my soul.

Such voidless eyes, 

So unlike the ones I know. 

Those eyes were far kinder.

Gentler. 

These eyes,

I do not know 

I cannot place.

Behold, 

A human-like being. 

But 

He is no man. 

White wings adorn his back, 

A mountain of blonde curls upon his head. 

His skin is tan and smooth,

Flawless, as if untouched by the sun. 

He is beautiful. 

He claims to be a god,

An immortal being that knows no bounds. 

A god who can see what others cannot,

Who knows what the soul yearns for.

Desire.

Passion.

Affection.

Love.

If he is the god of love,

The god who can grant such affection,

Then why am I being denied what I so desire,

What my soul thirsts for. 

“I cannot have you,”

“I cannot love you,”

“It is forbidden,”

You say.

“Why?”

I ask. 

“You can grant others love,

But you can not have it for yourself?”

His eyebrows crease,

As he draws in a shaking breath.

“It is the way of my people,

It cannot be.” 

And as dawn’s first light filters in, 

He stretches his wings to the sky, 

And with one last look,

He vanishes. 

The winged cupid,

The god of love,

Of sexual desire and attraction. 

You have failed. 

You say that you are immortal, 

A being of power like no other, 

That you can grant the heart's desire.

“I cannot love you.”

She stands alone.

A mortal being.

A foolish woman. 

“Please don’t leave me.” 

The winged cupid,

The god of love,

Has failed the one mortal 

He ever loved.

She stares long at the sky.

At the beautiful being,

She has come to call her own.

He is gone.

“I do not know how to not love you.”

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Written by Chloé Golden, Photography: Mary Le, Social Media: Divya Nair, Styling: Ally Graf