They fed their mind with black and white,
Monotone and the same.
Forbidding gay reds and blues,
greens and yellows,
and all the bountiful colors.
To them,
Love is simple.
As predictable as day and night.
To them,
Love is complex.
As divided as the colors on a prism.

Wrapped in pretty glitters and gold
I placed it in his hands
It was an effortless gift

I smiled and stood back to admire
love bloom from the inviting fire
Of red hot desire which burned off his eyes.

He handed me one as well
extravagantly decorated
much more than my own.

Such thought!
Surely it must be as great as he says!
Wrapped in such lovely word decorated paper.

I looked up to see him smiling back.
"Do you like it?"
he asks.

My answer is automatic.
Anything that comes from such grand gestures
surely must be just as pleasantly pleasing.

Excited and enthralled
I ripped it open
only for my hands to stall.

Empty.
A gift was expected,
was it not?

I looked up to see him smiling down.
his gift opened before him.
I stare in horror

"How naïve."
He states.
"You should have known,

Men like me don't do gifting.
Rather we enjoy destroying what we're given
and revel in your disappointment."

Why had I been the only one
Who's gift was not empty,
full of lies and deceit.

I should've know that fire is contagious
It cannot be contained
and you can't stop it from burning.

I could only watch as he lit my gift on fire.
Burning my trust to ashes,
and laughing at my broken sobs.

Now when I stay out of gifting.
Too afraid of another gift turned to ashes,
and empty wrappings with pretty words in gold.

I shall not bend
I shall not fold
I mustn't give under the gaze
of their watch.
For in my eyes this is weak.
however.
It is okay if I fall and crack,
It is okay if I break and snap.
Yet these orbed windows of my soul,
I mustn't let flood.
I may shake and tremble,
in anguish,
in frustration,
but this dam of my lids
shall not break.