You did it. You touched me,my broken heart. I know I begged you not to because I was terrified, so afraid of becoming worse off, shatter on the floor right in front of your beautiful, warm brown eyes. I begged you not to with all my might, everything in me, but it was a feeble attempt. Because you reached out with your hand, for me. And you put it right over my left breast where beneath layers of skin and tissue and muscles lied a broken, battered heart, beating in an erratic pace. I was breathless, the tears dripping down my cheeks. I couldn't even see you; and you were right there in front of me! You were touching my heart, your other arm around me lightly. Pulling, beckoning me forward to you. I was afraid of getting closer to you, showing you the huge scar I have over my heart, on my heart. But I did, I let you. You touched me, your soft hand over my bare skin. Then you bent down and you kissed it, hot breath brushing over my skin and instantly, I felt a little, just a little, healed. You kissed me there over and over until you slid on up to my lips and kissed them, so soft and slow so we could feel everything fully, the deepest chemistry of two souls destined by fate to connect. I'll never forget it. How you kissed the pain away and feeling a drip of wetness on my forehead, tears on my face that weren't my own. We cried together; and I could finally slow my breathing, stop running and just fall, crash into someone's arms. The arms of you.