He makes flowers grow in the tar filled parts of my lungs and they bloom ever more beautifully with every word that flows from his perfect lips. His heart is larger than his fists and it is so much more delicate, and every time it beats I feel myself smiling, he speaks such pretty words and his gospel voice calls out to me when I find myself slipping into places that scare me, he pulls me right back and keeps my feet on the ground without ever becoming a weight on my shoulders. I could stare into his eyes until the sun sets and if I could I would hold him until he doesn't feel so empty. A thousand words have passed since I met him and each is a small stitch that is repairing me, he has the power to unravel me but I don't think he will, no I don't think he would. Others will say he stole my heart like a thief but I know better, he reached into my ribcage and brought me back to life and only then did I let him take it. Treat it well, oh darling treat it well.