Description
From Chapter 34, “Call My Name,” of It’s Impossible by J H McIntosh — Act II: Soul to Soul.
Belle has never said Aaron's name in his presence. Somewhere deep within she suspects speaking his name would reveal the love that is developing in her. The song’s a tender reflection on the quiet moments when love is felt deeply yet remains unspoken. It invites us to sit with the gentle tension between holding back and letting go, finding warmth in vulnerability that doesn’t demand but patiently waits. Listening opens a space to acknowledge the courage it takes to name what matters most, even when fear whispers in the silence. It’s a hopeful reminder that sometimes the most profound connection begins in the stillness of unsaid words.
Lyrics
It’s right on my tongue, but I keep it contained,
One breath from the truth, I haven’t said your name.
I’ve known it forever, before you said hello,
The way you walked toward me, I already knew though.
I say it in silence, I whisper it low,
Just to feel how it sounds, just to let myself know.
It waits in my mouth like a spark in the rain,
Too ready to burn if I say your name.
Your name is right where the truth would begin,
One word from letting the whole world in.
If I say it out loud, I lose my disguise,
’Cause love becomes real when your name is mine.
So I keep my distance, I shoulder the blame,
I see you, I feel you — I haven’t said your name.
You tell me your love doesn’t ask to be fed,
You don’t need a return for the words that you’ve said.
You look at me like I already belong,
Like I matter more than the right or the wrong.
I’ve heard those promises, sworn just the same,
I trusted, I gave, and I still lost the game.
Your name is waiting, patient and kind,
Never demanding, never behind.
Maybe not spoken, but deeply the same —
You already know what your name is to me.
So I keep my distance, I shoulder the blame,
I see you, I feel you — I haven’t said your name.
You’d sit in my broken and never complain,
Not fixing the cracks, just sharing the strain.
That kind of devotion, that patient refrain,
Scares me more than walking away again.
What happens if one day you’re not still there,
And I’ve learned to breathe you into my prayers?
You waited that moment, I know that you did,
Your silence was louder than words you hid.
You asked for a name only I could define,
Something that was yours, something that was mine.
I said you already had one, watched your smile fade,
You never pushed back, but I know that caused pain.
Your name is waiting, patient and kind,
Never demanding, never behind.
Maybe not spoken, but deeply the same —
You already know what your name is to me.
Your name is right where the truth would begin,
One word from letting the whole world in.
If I say it out loud, I lose my disguise,
’Cause love becomes real when your name is mine.
So I keep my distance, I shoulder the blame,
I see you, I feel you — I haven’t said your name.
It rests in my chest, it aches in my throat,
One word from surrender, one breath from hope.
Maybe not tonight — but I’m learning the way,
Some fires are born from the names that we say.
And someday I’ll let it fall like rain…
But tonight, I still haven’t said your name.
