Kafka on the shore,
memories tear you apart.
The vague remembrance
of devotion we immersed
on that coastline,
strike back like the soothing waves
on a scorching strand.
Kafka on the shore,
I quest your existence
in shells and gravels
longing a love so deep
even the ocean would turn envious.
Kafka on the shore,
did we walk too far till sundown
or close enough
to survive the dark alone?
I am recollecting
the speck of your shadow
from drifted laughs,
sinking dreams as grains of sand
slipped easily through our palms.
Kafka on the shore,
memories tear you apart
Murakami wasn’t wrong,
but just as the grains of sand
it is easier to let slip
what you refuse to hold for long.
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