Do not my lips speak your name?
That thy eyes look to thine face,
while thy hand caresses thine face.
That thine lovely presence lightens up thy day.
That thy's cursed stars shine upon the broken glass littered upon thine's ground,
as you sweep up thy pieces and place thine's glue.
That it was you who saved me.
You didn't look at me as thine's trash,
but gold.
Something that still had worth when broken,
but never meant to be sold.
So as you ask me if it is to be,
I tell you of thy's broken soul that was mended when not the knight was there to save me,
but when it was thine's heart and soul, that offered the other piece to make thy's complete.
So I ask you again was it not thine's name I was calling when I caressed your lovely cheek?