saying my name

photo poem saying my name.png

You never said my name,
not really.
Just once out loud the last time I saw you,
just once in text to say goodnight.
I think it scared you–
it held too much power.
To say my name,
to hold it in your mouth and
let it flow over your tongue
and past your lips,
would mean I was inside you,
a part of you.
And you, who are too full of yourself already,
couldn’t bring yourself to make any room for another,
especially one so vast,
galaxies and universes swirling inside,
full of form and possibility,
while you were nebulous at best.

You couldn’t say my name and it’s no surprise–
to say it, to get that close,
it would consume you,
burn you to ash.
I am too much for you,
with or without a name.

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