What could I say that would change your mind?
Would it be easier to tie a string to the moon and pull it to earth?
Still I speak into the unknown
My own voice, in solitude, returns to me
Though not as it was when she left
I have had days where words have bubbled out of my mouth as quickly as the regrets could follow
Days also, where not a word could be pulled; by any hand or persuasion, through teeth gnashing in my mouth

Silence she is a queen
Though she does not always sit upon her throne

It seems my mind, these days, has to many pages, but none to turn them like wheels in a stream
This ache in me eats away at rest and resolution
Soon she will go hungry
And I can feed her naught but contempt and dry, empty, hopes
Oh that you would come to me
In any hour of the sun
Find me as I am
And speak to me as such;
One whom you have missed in the abundance of a field, flooded in Spring, only so that the bounty of the harvest would be overflowing

Find no fault in me
As I find no lack in you