Not in a sense that I want to own it, or
that I want to take it away from others and conquer
the ways for which it stood and whoever might
have been there before me.

But I want to name an island.
A cryptic, unforgiving name and not in a sense that
I’ll be leaving it, because of the harsh and abrasive things its done.
Not because I was ready to be left standing there
not knowing the starting and ending point,
like how I was left in your bed.

You didn’t make coffee or ask me what time
it was or if I wanted a shower.
You don’t black-out the sun anymore.
Now at nine in the morning the sun shines early through the window
and the aqua walls flood and I’m stranded on
your brown-plaid bed, in the middle of your room and
you just swam off.

And I’m naming it nothing,
because why would I name an island when I have no one to share it with?