I feel you—these words are like a weight I can't bear, intended for me but hollow, fading before they hit.
You murdered me, didn't you? I'm somewhere untainted, in a spot I can't go to yet keep ending up in, like if I was never supposed to belong but can't seem to get out.

We were never meant to be—that's the part I finally understand, despite my instincts.
I thought I could get away from it, forget about it, but your silence continues to ring—a persistent echo that I can't escape.
You don't have to say it; I can hear it anyhow.
The empty areas where we used to be are a piece of you that I will never possess.
A love that was never truly mine.

And, sure, I ruined it.
Of course, I did.
I trusted in this and in you—this ruin.
I believed the shattering captivated me, but it was something else I convinced myself.

You say you want peace, but I don't believe you know what it means.
Is it letting go? Is it more than that?
Is it setting me free or setting yourself free from me?
We'll continue to go in different directions, saying we've forgotten about the hurt.
Learning to cope with what is absent.

They'd tell me to go away, to give up—but if you love me, say it, and say it louder, until all that remained was quiet, the place where we once were.
I'll keep traveling, but I will never stop seeing you.
I'll never stop feeling you; this unhealed pain leaves no scars.
It just remains open, no matter how much time we spend.

So this is the last line, the last thread winding down, and the last thing I'll never speak aloud.
We let go and go on, but I'll always remember you, even when it's not right.

And maybe, in time, we'll both fade into something different.
Not together, not as we imagined, but separate, and that will suffice.
Perhaps that's the closest we'll ever come to peace.

Water runs in the same way she does.
Knowing they brought her gentle lies via guns
Barrels of bullets like music,
But they still wonder why she grew sick.

Salt dances on her cheeks and it is
Faulted for not one, but for all of the
Flowers that grew from her ears
In a matter of hours.

For the love of god,
Just skip the pleasantries.
Walk through the park,
Assign the guilt trip to your patriarch.
Pass the statues whispering ugly
Remedies in the form of an excuse.

My mind is like an overgrown field, mixed with thorns and weeds.
Like a wandering dervish, but not at peace.
I think I’ll smoke a cigarette on the veranda,
with coffee.
Or maybe I’ll take a long walk,
to open a door for these stifling thoughts.

In the poem, I spoke of:
I wanted to go to Japan,
But I lost my wallet.

In the homeland of  "Thousand Cranes,"
My first touch
With that remarkable
Book, I felt.

I wanted to go to Japan,
To see the rustling of kimonos.

But I lost my wallet.

I was going in the spring, to
Feel the scent of sakura.