Making names in the sand,
a finger trailing 
lost in thought
but thoughts were lost 
in the oceans of self-doubt
of unecessary concern
of unfulfilled desire. 
It is hard to put a finger on
this particular hue of confusion. 

But it’s just a name, 
nothing special about it. 
Except that it repeats over and over
a record worn with time
never connecting right with the needle. 
Eventually you have to let it go
Her go, him go
Whatever go.