My heart,
Raw and beating.
Your hands,
Warm and tender.
You won my heart,
And now you hold it in your hands.
It is yours.

You may tug on its strings,
Yank me this way or that.
You may push on its veins,
Tingle and jolt me at your will.
You may drop it on the ground,
Watch as I shatter,
Broken.

Or you may caress it,
See as it grows and strengthens.
You may feed it,
With kisses and kindnesses.
You may watch the fire leap beneath it,
It will not burn you.

This is the fire of my love,
It is warm, but raging—
With passion, with pride.
Because of all those who could capture my heart,
I am glad it was you.

There is no one to whom I would rather entrust my heart.
Take it—
It is yours.
Take me—
I am yours.