My sullen tongue could not bring itself to say the magic words
Which wins or loses your scarlet heart,
But my pen shall ever live brave
To bleed them into poetry.
If feelings were trees I would cut mine down
Yet keep a little seed to plant for the future;
For I wish the time was right and yet now is not now
For which I blame my untrustworthy, naïve teenage self.
Still the truth shall remain bitter
Though with you it could be sweet
Six words I find hard to whisper:
My scarlet heart beats for you.
