Lisa Mona

My Mona Lisa is spoilt; I can see the strokes of dirt on its once beautiful and mysterious smile

I can literally see through her, she is not the same.

I used to stand in the museum all day long, marveling at her cruel beauty.

I always had the impression that she was looking back at me.

People would pass by me and say that I am a fool.

I knew I wasn’t, she had these incredible Sfumato layers of paint that made her left side stand out.

She was in harmony with herself.

She was a perfect pentacle, yin & yang in one and that used to turn me on as hell.

See, most of the greatest paintings are truly pointless. We struggle trying to  give them a meaning and that's their trick.

Funny how art makes fun of us!

Her nubile body is still there but it doesn’t send the same longing to my loins.

More from aKoma