Your gift is unwrapped yet held in the palm of my hand.
Turning down a gift is like turning down love
Its pain brings vile depression
Yet also brings thoughts.
These thoughts I keep secret, held within the palm of my hand like that of the gift itself
Yet it’s wrapping paper remains untouched,
Each little bow lying steadily upon the gift itself
Like that of a dying rose in the sunlight.

True beauty does not come from gifts, or from thoughts.
An enigma is what beauty is, just like what you are to me.
You both remain behind a mask, yet once fully revealed,
You both drink in sighs as people gaze at you both from afar
Wanting to share the eternal fruit within your hands
The fruit cupped by the thoughts of old lovers drinking in beauty and envy
As each play a role of lies
Something that you will never be tainted with.

By Leon the Echidna