I've asked myself why my scarred heart still beats.

Why, after long neglect, does the blood flow through it, still giving me life.

It's been shelved for so long, dusted on special occasions, evidenced only by the embellishment of a smile.

Sworn upon the moon's promise of a morrow, to never gain momentum within me.

Until one night, you entered in, and placed upon my cheek the sweetest nectar imaginable - tender kisses.

I live again.