The Goddess

When he calls me an angel, it makes me smile nervously and tremble for I am afraid of being loved and appreciated the way I am supposed to. Love makes me weak; it makes me want to close in my little world of dreams and sit there quite. How come a woman, God’s best creation is afraid to be called what she is?
Monica Bellucci, a woman who makes my heart stop to see her deep as an ocean eyes. She is so deep and tantalizing I cant think of getting myself distracted. It’s a woman of immense power, strong will and God’s given talent.
I turn my head away from her and stare at the flowers he sent me. Young fresh lilies just about to bloom, so innocent, so angelic. The mid-night words so powerful inside of me “I miss you, angel”.
Angel. Woman. A woman is an angel?
I am tantalized. My ears get the magic sounds of Madonna. Her powerful voice, sensual music, her piercing knowing eyes stop my mind for a second. I drown in Madonna. I drown in Monica. I drown in women whom I call angels for they bring light, for they bring meaning to life full of emptiness. They make you think, they never leave you emotionless, you hate them, and you love them.
I adore them. They are angels in devil robes. And I am one of them. I am a woman to make a difference. I look into Monica’s eyes and I see the reflection of mine. I hear Madonna’s speech and feel her energy coming out and I feel it’s a part of me. It has always been a part of us.