Gifts. Not all gifts consist of contagious laughs, nor shrieking woes. For most children, they receive joy, and sometimes a coffin for the old. Mine was hard to distinguish even up today. Because it was dressed like a daydream under the sheets of gray. A snowglobe, a sculpture of two faces, the atmosphere that surrounds it like a womb. It felt secure. A city of our dreams where no one can touch. The love that never came to me was there to watch. I remember feeling almost everything to the sound of your breath and fascinating wonders. With you the glitters there form a twister. The figures within will dance until their feet numb. Christmas hums whisper through the effect of the words 'i love you'. And those were the reasons I forgot it was all a lie. I forced myself a sweet lie. Because somehow, I lost the sense of reality. Your hands will never intertwine mine. Your eyes will never see that little world. Eventhough I admit I was fine, I blinded myself in this light. The thought of you managed to make chilly snows as glitter. The colors turned dull as I make out our figure. As if a midnight train, you abandoned our memories at dawn. And your heart making decisions like stone. It was gloomy and cold and funny. The perfect piece of broken melody. So I sing with this gift that you bestow, locking my soul in eternal sorrow.