Love with all its golden curls had no idea of loving.
I knew that, waking up, covered with torn illusions,
while Cupid stood there, smoking a cigarette,
his pale buttocks more real than the moon as a whole.
Once he loved me, a god he had been in my past.

It was my imperfect body wanting his, but I would have
settled for this double moon and cigarette ashes.
We noticed, though, how love with all its golden curls
left the room through the open window in fumes,
and he put on some clothes. He was human at last.


Comments on: "Cupid" (13)

  1. Cupid is a dangerous man. Can get you in deep trouble. A excellent poem.

  2. Ah, love again and again – with all its imperfections i welcome it…

  3. I never knew that Cupid smoked 🙂

    Methinks that love and lust are not the same thing perhaps 🙂

    and a warm hug

    • lol 🙂 well Cupid can appear in different forms I suppose 😉
      Arohanui and a warm hug to you too !

  4. This made me smile, cupid standing there smoking! And Im not sure what I will see now when I see the moon again!

    Love and hugs xx

  5. 🙂 🙂 xx

  6. This is a good’un Ina – it’s most imaginative!

  7. Such an original take on the cupid myth…very interesting 🙂

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