His heart was old and wounded and scared It had been broken and bruised and burned until there was not even ash left It had dreamt and lost and cried more tears than stars in the sky and prayed to never fall again To never feel empty and absent or miserable and abused and for the death it felt inside to be its quite and final resting place It clung desperately to the want of never And then there was her And colors pulsed in its blood And dreams were painted on its walls And her name burned into its skin Then his heart beat as if it was just taking in its first breath And all of its cracks and scars and bruises faded and it couldn't remember shedding a single tear or ever having been broken And the beauty of love was found again In the soft curves of her smile and the magic of the colors swirling in her eyes And nothing else mattered Nothing but her