All my life, I've been the supporting character that sits in the back and cheers the protagonist on. The focal point seldom lands on me. It never bothered me until I met you. Never in my life did I aspire to be a main character in my own story the way I aspired to be one in yours. Call it a bruised ego if you have to, but the silence you radiate toward me has shaken my world in a way not a single earthquake could.
Say my name.
Give breath to the lungs that push my body toward you almost instinctively on a daily basis. The way God took Adam's rib to give life to Eve. The way the first sign of life is the cry of a child that pierces the white halls of the hospitals that host both the new lives and the forgotten memories of the cadavers that lay in the beds that cradled their final thoughts and prayers. I am here. I am the first cry, often mistaken for the silent final prayer that quietly travels to the empty chapels that give false hope to the empty hearts and overburdened minds.
Say my name.
Remember me in your fullest moment and peak experience. I am here. The loud laughs that deafen your eardrum and fill your body with the adrenaline of a million wars that don't know if they'll see the dawn of another day. The aching heart of a dying soldier, wanting to see home one last time, is no match for the way I ache to feel your presence. Never has a lost man ached for a home the way I ache to be your home.
Say my name.
I often think of the soft sheet of snow and how its beauty is so insignificant compared to the light tone of your skin that blankets your soul and being.
I often think of the dusk and how its beauty dwindles in comparison to the deepness of your eyes and the darkness of your hair.
The dusk.
Oh, how the dusk fills me with the hope of a new dawn by your side. How often have I dreamt up a new world where it only fits you and me and the aching that your silence brings to my being?
Say my name.
The endless stories that harbor a home on the rotting shelves of these empty libraries are no match for the stories I have written for you and of you in the deepness of my subconscious. No amount of Charles Dickens can overshadow the multiple lives and worlds that I have created in the hopes of having you there with me, with your silence.
How many times have you strolled through the floating words of the dead poets that spoke of a dying love that was no match for the breathing love I have for you?
All these dying loves are a sentence away from being the haunted memory of what almost was. Yet mine is alive. It is fresh. It is present. In every world. In every story. In every period. If you are there, my love for you is close by, matching the rhythm of your breath.
Say my name.
I'm no longer the supporting character here.
Say my name.
I am here. I am present.
Say my name and carry me with you wherever you go.
Say my name.
I will be here regardless of where you go. Regardless of who you encounter. Regardless of who you try to become and embody.
Say my name.
Acknowledge my role in your life.
Say my name.
I am here. I am you.
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