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?