When light hits her surface, a lustre is found. She's eyecatching, in how she shines so. A status symbol, a fine crown jewel. Her body sublime to appropriate.
Closer imperfectia are found. She can be concave in places. Her chromatic veins find sink points, weakness and scarring, expose jagged edges. Wasn't she perfect? Her geode's edges dug into her at places. She wasn't polished in the end.
Still her insides peculed the radiant noon, the broken dawn, the echoing dusk, the ethereal moonlight. You couldn't ignore how her skin seemed to shine a new way each time you saw her. Even her jaggednesses let some twisted halo upon nearby walls, her lacklustra provided the softness to welcome one's eyes.
Her prisma needed to be seen. She thrived on the ways she fell outside herself. She loved how her self left bare provided the framing for new Moments. She saw how her light let others change too - even if for just a moment.