She is the mother who wants to shape me,
Who wants to put me into shapes
I do not want to be shaped by.
Aphrodite stands with the back to me
Flowing silk reach until the ground,
Shining hair artfully twirled up,
And over her bare shoulders I see them:
Couples created after her ideal —
Of the love I cannot understand.
I do not understand her love.
And her son, Amor, hates me
For every arrow breaks against my heart.
So Amor sits on my shoulder, like a watchdog sent by her
When I walk hand in hand with my best friend
And press a goodbye kiss to her cheek
Or when I run my hand through another friend’s hair
When Aphrodite blessed us with love,
Hestia cradled me in her arms too long
When Aphrodite split our hearts in half,
Artemis took me in before Aphrodite could,
And taught me how to love
She is a monument of human desires
Created from the ideal of a tangible fantasy
Which promises a solution to the
Love like I want you to, she says
Love like I have taught you to, she says
I know that love cannot heal.
Love cannot make me feel less broken for
She is the voice that tries to convince me
She is the chain that wraps around my neck,
For daring to be different,
For daring to think I am complete on my own.
That sharpens her claws on my heart,
And to break in half but instead,
I am not a child Aphrodite’s.
I was born from the warmth of Hestia’s hearth,
And raised with the faith of Artemis’ virgins.
