boxing gloves

there is a space upon my heart
on which a name resides
in pretty scrawl with tightened curl
roots tangled deep inside
it flowers out with healing strands
stretched over all past wounds
like the touch of soothing hands
or the lingering of sweet tunes
slowly it does spread its touch
subtle, patient, tender
scars that once ached so much
are healed in sweet surrender
each moment passes with a beat
bespeaks a heart that's yearning
to be held, to be complete
to have a page worth turning
there was a space upon my heart
just waiting to be claimed
to be touched, not torn apart
afraid of being tamed
you came along without a pen
not knowing what to do
when you failed, you tried again
you managed to break through
without a pen you could not write
your name upon my soul
so you carved with all your might
and once done, made me whole
rigid lines, deeply sown
your name wont fade away
i am yours, as sayings go
until my dying day