I once had a samurai who took good care of me.
But I had to let him go, he knows what he did.
Sometimes I think about him and his whereabouts
but then I remember, it’s him who needs to know where I am, not the other way around.
His home is still in my heart, but like a watercolor painting,
the memory of him is also fading.
It’s best this way, I tell myself…
Because his home
is
with
someone
else.
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