"My Infatuation. Him."

"My Infatuation. Him."

Haku Matsudaira

Today, I thought of him.

I thought it was only a dream.

I thought of him a lot.

Should I just stop or not?

I dreamt of him, too.

In my dream, we were the only two.

Two persons in the Earth, 

Two, who were given birth.

I think about admitting.

I thought of me telling.

Telling what I really feel,

Only I'd have a lot to deal.

I'd be dealing with others.

They'll start to be a bother.

They'd tease me and me,

They'd annoy me and him.

Will he get mad?

Oh, I'm sorry. My bad.

Oh, why would you?

I hope it won't be true.

When I tell, will you tell me?

Who the lucky girl is. Is it me?

I just hope if it wasn't me,

I hope that I'd be happy for thee.

Can I accept the truth?

I can only hope good fruit--

To be the outcome of whatever.

Whatever that I'd be doing-- ever.

Maybe I'm being hard.

On myself that is. Hard. Hard.

I'm getting confused and,

This poem is getting to it's end.

A pathetic poem. Is it not?

I hope it's not bad. Not?

Only thing I could say that's true,

I love you. Well, I think it's true.

--End--

26November2011, Saturday