I am not certain where, but I remember hearing that one of the possible suitors for Persephone's hand was Hermes. That recollection, along with this well-known painting by Lord Frederick Leighton, led to the following poem.
I can see myself burying my face into her flower-scented hair
I can see myself holding her delicate face in my hands and kissing her lips
I can see myself with her tiny hand in mine
I could have made an excellent husband
I guess I wasn’t fast enough.
I see her all the time.
Every time I guide the dead to her golden throne
I have to look into her deep colored eyes
Eyes that change from blue to green to violet
They see my sadness
She thinks it is for the soul I have just transported
And she is moved by my compassion
That is not why I am sad. That is my vocation.
My heart aches with my love for her
And she will never know
I cannot betray her friendship or the friendship of her king
I remember the day that I brought her back to her mother
She was still pale and scared
The juice of the pomegranate still staining her lips
Blood on the mouth a vampire freshly fed on a virgin
She was the sacrificed virgin
She had become the vampire
The thieves, the gamblers, the tricksters
They are simply a pastime
I have waited an eternity to hold her in my arms
I will never hold her in my arms
I will wait until the end of time
To love the queen of the dead