When you show her
Your scars,
She caresses them
With her
Sunshine laced fingers,
Making daisies
Bloom out of them.
When you show her
Your pain,
She cups them
With the palms of her hands,
And hides them
Behind her ribcage,
Within the
Walls of her heart,
Making it
Beat down
Every bit of your pain
To dust.
She saves you
Every chance she gets
And she is
Nothing short of
A saviour.