Almost Called This

I found your name

in the fold of a yellowed envelope—

creased paper, ink blurred,

a secret almost mine.

My parents hesitated,

like a pause caught between breaths.

It’s strange to hold a name

that never met my face,

like a door unopened,

a shadow at the edge of the room.

I speak my own

but sometimes the other one

lingers,

quiet as the dust

that gathers on forgotten things.