forge

for dae

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.