My core is precious stone. It’s not hard and indestructible like diamond, it is softer like rainbow moonstone. She flashes iridescent light if looked at just right, that is, if I allow you to see her.
My core is guarded by a seven-headed dragon of blue flame. The dragon encircles her and works hard to protect her preciousness from outside influences. When attacked the dragon releases a fire 2000 times hotter than volcanic magma. It takes its job seriously. Sometimes the dragon relaxes and allows her to play on these pages. She can flit and flutter on the spaces between the lines. The dragon adores the stories she tells, the poems she creates. Her whispered creations soothe the dragon’s blue flames to a golden simmer.
My core kisses her protector gently like the wind a butterfly’s wings create as it moves from flower to flower. She is sweet, my core, and mostly innocent. She harbors within an immense sadness for humanity, the environment, the world, and herself. The dragon keeps her warm and gives her someone to talk to about the injustices she witnesses and the sadness she harbors. The dragon listens and guards against any slights similar to those she speaks of. They live in tandem, my core and the dragon, and love one another fiercely.