Sometimes I go days without
saying your name.
Days without thinking of you
or us or the things we did.

Sometimes I go weeks
without saying your name.
Weeks without dwelling
on the past, good or bad.

But sometimes I slip up and
your name escapes from my mouth
the way my heart attempted
to escape from my chest
the moment our lips first met.

Sometimes when I say your name it's as if it were three years ago and I was holding your hand for the first time.

And sometimes when I say your name it's like you've been lost from me for centuries.
But either way, when I do say your name, a part of me always wishes I was saying it to you.