You could never pronounce my name right.
The way it rolled off your tongue,
just sounded mishandled.
Like a piece of the puzzle
that you try so hard to make fit.
But it doesn’t quite belong.
I learned to love it that way.
It was the only flaw I could find.
It was almost like you took,
who I thought I was.
And revised it a little bit.
You would whisper it into the stillness,
or scream it into the void
Reminding me that I found love,
was nothing exceptional.
But then, you got tired
of my names dull tone.
And I watched
as it dropped right from your
perfectly curved lips,
and shatter on the floor.
My name,
that was once so full of love,
was just a broken sound.
And now, when someone says it right.
I don’t even react at all.