My Name

Don’t take my name On your tongue And apply it after Your first, Your middle... Don’t join it with Your last With a dash- Forget its existence. I’ve grown sick At the sight of my Own name- I’m afraid That anything Following it WIll contain A fragment of Some part of me I don’t want Brought Back to the Lime-light; My signature Implies A certain kind Of Carelessness- Sloppy penmanship Floating Just above the line And I can’t even Recognize Any letters at all, Anymore, In it. I want to erase My name- Give me yours In place of it- I’ve already Learned How to spell it Correctly, Can already Define each rough Touch of pen To parchment Clearly With its own Gentle, Caressing curve, Can already see Your smile In the way the Ink Dries To the paper; My name Is an act Of Disappearance, A decision to Forget My past And look only Toward the rest of the Words Scrawled On the page Below- So no, Don’t take my name. I myself don’t even want it, Anymore.