The shape of a heart isn't the
edges, its what collects inside.
memories of what was enlightening
brightening the darkest of times.

A singular touch, weakening the
sorrow, forefeeling the pieces that
were needing a loving touch.

Past collections that mend every
pain that was in my past.
You mould my heart...

I cant imitate the sensitivity that
your recreate with a loving touch,
But you words fill up the corners of
a heart that absorbs your every word of love.