I shouldn’t say your name.
It sounds strange upon my tongue.
Just a movement of my lips,
but it always comes out wrong.
I don’t trust myself to say it,
so I call you honey, babe & dear.
Do you notice your name scares me?
Or is it only what you long to hear?
What if your name sounds foreign from my voice?
Maybe it won’t sound like your name at all,
the name your mother whispered,
the name your friends laugh and call.
My mouth knows how to form it.
I say it to myself when you’re away.
It’s traipsing through my mind.
It’s standing there all day.
Maybe I feel I don’t know you,
so how can I say it out loud?
How can I butcher the one thing,
the one thing that makes you proud.