within the pain is a small pearl of pleasure.
the defiant measure of, "you will not kill me."
the sweet, salty ache
of lemon on a paper cut;
a stinging, biting healing.
the ability to laugh.
deep, belly laughs.
the smug chuckle of the harlot after a lashing from the wife.
the snicker of the Goddess before she moved underground.
the maniacal cackle in the midst of a gut wrenching cry.
that is the jewel i am creating
deep down in the center of myself.