What's in a name?

Your Name



Your name is like an unborn thought
of sense has ceased to be
a curdled phrase that hell hath wrought
and hence bequeathed to me.

To speak, the tongue like morning’s breathe
recalls the taste of dread
held still by the grasp of death
at once this offense said

Your name is much less than a name,
a shame of unknown kind.
Hate itself declined to claim,
what love could not define.