The Simona.

I met a flower-like figure of rare, unworldly traits, designed of mythological moods, shadows and soft, pink light. Aphrodite herself would want to pluck, and keep her for herself.

I look even closer in the black and white, me unable to stop admiring her vintage effect, of old, magical places. Places from time travel and paper photographs. And a glow from within her, blinding me, so much so, I take steps back. Her core, soulful and deep, sweet nectar and such, the transference of magnetic forces I cannot explain, and I cannot duplicate. And her giving nature, into each of the parts extending beyond her reach, I feel tingling across my face. Fully, completely, and unconditionally in love.

And because she is gifted to earth from Gods, metamorphosis takes effect. Deep into a kintsugi forest. With all the scattered to be healed from those taking too much. To repair layers of tired and old, and to give again. Renewal, to re-emerge understanding her demi-divinity again. Glued into patterns of gold, radiant and more vivid than before, and living again. Her warmth surrounding, nurturing your sights, to see more than ever seen before.

From bottomless chasm, selflessly and unconditionally the light of simply what is, that part unchanged. Pink and gold and put together again, giving to us who are undeserving, hope again.

Excerpt from
Between love poems and solitude.