A jewel upon you is as a bow on pretty hair, the hair is still the star.
If this jewel had your inner warmth, your heart and soul, it would be the sunshine of this solar system. As it is, let it sit upon your skin, absorb your body heat and glow beneath starlit black heavens.
The jewel is an approximation of nature, a compliment to the natural form of creation. You are nature in her natural form. You wear the jewel, you are the real beauty.
A jewel is only pretty because of the light it reflects, you are beautiful because of the light you create in your soul. That's why you are my diamond, my rock, a gem above all others.
The jewel reminded him of the way pebbles are on the beach when they are wet with brine, of how they shine in the sunlight, so perfect in their symphony of browns.
She was my flower, the petals of my every dream, pretty dressed only in morning sunlight and nothing else. Yet that night when we went out, dressed to the nines, she was a diamond in diamonds, a true jewel beneath the black heavens.
Petallina held the jewel in her outstretched hand and it lay there just as heavy as a common rock. Yet in the summer sunlight it glittered like the sun-kissed ocean lapping the sands; the brilliant red hue was so vivid it was how she imagined crystalline blood would appear if such a thing existed. After several more waves and cries from the gulls above she let it fall back into the plain burlap pouch, sliding it into the pocket of her jeans.
The jewel was nothing in comparison to the woman who wore it. For her light was heart-radiant rather than a reflection of camera flashes.