By the way he curled his lips just to utter my name, I knew.
By the way he allowed it to linger on his tongue, I knew.
They say there's so much in a name, and I'd agree.
But they never talk about those who carry your name in their hearts or those who bury your name in their souls.
My name was buried.
I knew by the rise of his chest, and the fall of his shoulders.
I knew by the nervousness in his eyes and the calmness of his spirit.
I knew by the depth of his voice and the softness of his tone.
That his love for me had never died, as I have been resurrected.