001. the flavor of your name
I anticipate the day I will savor your name on my taste buds and trap it in the roof of my mouth. I do not say it out loud in fear of it scarring the lip I bite often enough. I often curl, into the fetal position, a roly poly, in case I might hear it twice. this is when I remember how to scream. I take precautions, in case your name might echo. the only solution I have found is to not say it at all. and I've been waiting for your name to age, yellow, curl, soften at the corners. the greatest fear is fear itself, they say, and I know far well that this is true, for nobody stops me from saying these phonemes. but at the same time, I am nobody - at least, when I am afraid.