Your name is hot when I scribble it amongst the paper, like my passion burning for you.

Your name is heavy when I speak it, like how heavy my eyelids get after I stayed at your house, and left that next morning with a lack of sleep... So I could be with you.

Your name is one of many, but I can easily pick it out.
But unlike how I can pick you out from a crowd, Or how I could once decifer your feelings for me, I can't anymore.

I have only memories to remember,
Things have really changed since last December.