Knotted fingers,
Lacing through my hair.

Rough hands,
Touching me gently.

Broad shoulders,
With arms that hold me.

Strong back,
That lifts me up.

Scarred body,
That has many stories to tell,

And a mean face,
From years of torment,

The body I love,
The body I know,
The body of the person who has my heart.

The boy who owned it still owns me.
The man who carries it is still the boy I'm in love with.

His body, along with his scars, are all that make him perfect.