This is a serious midnight sway -
you do sweep away her pains
with those lingering, little touches,
gentle, sweet to her like decaying flowers.
Under your will is the love eternal 
two hearts and a delicate pray.
The wounds are old,
- once clearly cutted deep - it's a sin
on the skin's soft memory:
Since on where you're placing the butterflies now
there used to be a war.
The zone is now clear, the dust has settled
and time has started to heal the scars.
She's a creature to keep and she holds your heart
and in your life she is it's art
whispering her own words of forever to you.

"Dance with me just like my demons do."