Discipline, never my heart's strongest sense,
And standing near you all my strength's undone;
Too long like this, impossible persistance,
All too aware I'll never be the one.

Long for it to break down, this resistance,
I long to break the silence of my tongue;
My mouth swollen, bruised with its insistance,
The ache of too much beauty still unsung.

Paint your face in words strewn upon the page,
As I would a path of roses to your door;
Silent I'll remain through another age,
Almost convinced that I don't ache for more.