Rock, Paper, Scissors

Unlike the flower
My rock will not die
It will not be broken

It can be wrapped in whatever coating you like
But at the centre it is the same, strong and unmoving
Whatever garment you place upon it

Unlike the chocolate
My paper will not go off
It will not be spoilt

Paint on it, if you will whatever picture you like
Although the paper is blank it has its own beginning
But is there for you to carry on the story

Cut it out if you want
But the story is still there
Even if it’s in pieces

Unlike the kiss
My scissors’ touch will remain
It is not forgotten

Whether it has made you a sculpture or a painful scar
You will remember my touch, as I will remember yours
Blunt me if you will but I will always remain sharp

Unlike the gift
These things mean something