for Fujibayashi Kyou
I'm sitting in my sunbent floor with
nothing in my arms
Waiting for a sign that you're not here
In the constancy of betterness with
no masks on my door
from Festivals of nightcats reappeared
Shaken AM radios and
bay leaves in the tea
A few more childhoods quietly slip away
He couldn't love my sister and
could not relax for me
His choice was something else I could not make
I broke down on the tennis court, we
all have our own wounds
But I had grown so weak from being strong
My sister was apologizing, we
cried inside our arms
The summer's nearly here and you're not gone
originally drafted February 2014
has tormented the hell out of me ever since