I once loved a girl from Japan
She told me the two words of her name mean
“Aimed for Balance”

She taught me how to write my name in Katakana letters.
She taught me how to read past sarcasm
And backhanded comments.
I taught her how to read American literature
And how to say “Roller Skates”.
She taught me how to learn with my emotions,
And I taught her how to learn with her body.


I would tell her, “I love you”.
She would laugh, and with those brown eyes of hers,
Look into my own and say , “Are you drunk?”

Her hands, pale and smooth like paper,
Would often find themselves entwined in my own, long and strong,
Like a summer’s warmth embracing a bright day.

She was my moon, and
She always called me her “Shining Sun”
But I had to let her go.

She cried tears that fell like snow,
But I could only feel a rising heat
Behind my cheeks.

I tried to tell her,
“You are too good of a lover
And I am too poor of a man
To give you my soul.”

She told me, with her wintery voice,
“I want to stay with you!
I need your voice, your hair,
Your hands, your eyes!”

She needed my summer
But I would be leaving for a faraway place.

I needed her winter,
But her cool smile has frozen into bitterness
And will grant me no respite.

Now, without her dark, soothing hair against my chest,
I find myself
Aimed for Balance.