What fickle courage and my fleeting tongue, have all

But deserted me, and while my heart's beat number falls

I must swallow their sound with words,

And allow the flow of time to carry me

Silent ever further to life's last shore

On a journey I shall take alone.

So to the grave with words left unsaid,

And may they fill the songs of the wandering dead,

Because in your eyes I am already dammed-

A tongueless spectre forbidden by oath,

Sworn to protect, no more. No more,

Than to die for destiny and rot to bone.

And my want to say

Is irrelevant beside your smile anyway.

And- already a mute- I must now become a thief

Locking away your smile deep in my memory,

To be gazed upon only ever in my dreams.

But I have something to give you, too:

A final precious gift to you and you alone, to be taken to your own grave.

I give you words, my dear, different from those so desperate to be free.

One last cry.

One last oath, this time one you must swear to me.

Live your life,

And fight for your every breath

And when at last you do meet death

Make him remember you.

But above all else, remember this:

I will always wait for you.