He calls me by my name,

The name you never knew.

It rolls off his tongue,

Like a bitter fondue.

I didn't like the way he say it,

He treats it like he owns it.

But he never owned me,

Nor my name.

It was you I used to long for

And hear you say it just the same.

But you never liked the idea

Of knowing it, in the first place.

So I dropped the obsession for the idea

Of writing my name with your last name

On the walls of my pencil case.