Helen of Christmas

HELEN OF CHRISTMAS What will my present be? Can I kiss her at the lit tree, or, under the mistletoe, where she makes me grow? She is brown paper packages, tied up in string. That might sound bad, but she is my favorite thing. She's my Santa; she knows what to bring. I stood, looking at her, by the vanity. She makes Christmas better.  See? Under the strung colored lights, that are on; above she strafes gifts, unto us; upon. She sits on Goliath's seat; bearing many presents at our feet. And I wanted to wander towards her, for us to greet. Why do you love me so fuking much? I panicked when I thought she was gone. Poof!  Like in a vacuum; her presents undone. I just want to see her free. Like the sand in the sea...