He held her face in his hands.
Wet with disillusionment.
She kneeled, abandoned.
He had emptied her to walk away.
A woman of regeneration.
The wounds inflicted upon her.
She mastered the reconstructive knitting.
The holding together, composure.
As tears were rolling down her features, her back kept straight.
And as the needle pierces her flesh and wanders around,
The more pain, the more healing, she administered her flesh and glory.
Recovering from infatuation, discovering love, the endless one, the struggle to uphold.
The movement of the needle a dance, unbound, the accompanying voice.
As his steps left her alone, the spectrum broadened.
Wide open, the elbows spread themselves, she stood erect.
La grande amoureuse recuperating love in her own skin.
“Danae” by Gustav Klimt (1862-1918)