My lips are cracked,
My tongue is dry,
My vocabulary has been sacked!,
I cannot even - not for the greatest beauty! - sigh.
There is a void in my lung,
Musical notes filling my soul,
So many songs to be sung,
You must think me a fool.
How do I tell you that I want you to hold me?,
You know that I know your love for me,
But why can my words not be free?,
Is this struggle a thing that you see?
My imaginary feet trip as I try to kick this uncertainty,
And I look away and at the floor when your arms are around me,
Even though I told myself, your face I wanted to see,
Why are my eyes not free?
You’ve breathed new life into this being,
Has it stolen my tongue?
What is it I am seeing?
How many songs of joy will go unsung?