Hence say

Those golden eyes of thine...

for shall thy words speak of nonsense as this heart o' mine goes on beatin' once, twice and maybe three times. And thou shall think that it is I for so thou are to think, but it is not I. No it is not for I could've never speak the words that, in rage, deny thy name nor rise the voice from my throat which now swallows tears, my tears. For yes, it was not I, but those tears are, indeed, falling from these eyes o' mine as thou art confused not knowing what my words say.
Hear then this, for this is what I speak and hence what words cannot explain... ah, my bad! Once again I cannot think, I cannot explain, I cannot find those words. My bad, too bad, for now those feelings I had fly around as moths trying to approach the flame of thy words, of thy lips, hoping to catch a beat of thy heart as mine cannot.
And knows not if someday will it... for it is not my will, but yours my dear.
For these are not my words, but thine.
Speak thy words