We were barely adults and only two years into our marriage when we took him as a lover. That sun-bleached surfer that I barely tolerated and you adored. How long did we spend together? A year? Not even. Our world together was only briefly permitted. Yet the nights and days the three of us shared seem a thousand times clearer upon reflection than any other memory from that time. Now I find myself asking, why? What may seem like a question easily answered, never is. There was nothing simple about our relationship with our lover, but he was not our demise, nor the highlight of our marriage. He was just a fragment of a greater broken mirror. So, why then, do I see him reflected in so many shards of us? Written in narrative poetry, Say My Name is a breathtaking true story of polyamorous love, marriage, and abuse.