The name forms on your lips and it’s seemingly an eternity before I can actually hear it,
(How come you make it sound pretty?)
(As if it were something beautiful, feminine, exotic.)
p a i n s t a k i n g l y
the name is out,
(having scratched it’s way through your vocal chords and into stagnant air).
Now, I can’t help imagining my heart as frail,
(the brilliance of blood on white satin ribbon).
And I want to raise a hand in rudeness,
to interrupt before I hear the full name.
(The glass heart tip begins to crumble.)
(You pose a chisel in the center of it’s surface.)
You pose a chisel with your black-and-white word,