the back wall of my closet is plastered with your name written in purple sharpie and covered with those little gold metallic heart stickers.

this is not at all unlike the way your name appears in the stars i see behind my eyelids when i stand up too quickly.

your name is caked so far beneath my fingernails that you have become a part of these hands, reaching for your own body.

your name melts in my mouth.
i can feel every letter snaking between my teeth, soaking through enamel as i roll over them with my tongue, savouring the taste.

your name is a beautiful white/*******/noise.

you are playing in the background of my thoughts like a soft symphony of static-
you are a far away rumble of thunder and the gentlest downpour of rain
because even the gods are weeping with the beauty of your name.

the sound of you lingers in my mouth and my ears and my eyes...and all my nerves and my bones. i have laid you to rest in my ribcage, but at night i can still feel you trickling down my sternum and up my spine, burning in the back of my throat, a thousand bottles of whiskey and wine.

your name is so far into my blood and my brain that i wonder if you are not also an illness. if you are, then it is such a lovely disease that has stricken me. you are never far from my sickly thoughts.

so as i lie here, wrapped in loneliness and bathed in myself, staring at the back wall of my closet, i will call for you. because trapped between the roof of my mouth and my pale blue deathly lips, your name is the only thing left for me to say.