Hirate Masahide

masahide

there is a something in words, an unnecessary
overabundance of thoughts and afterthoughts,
such that, as you afterthink your way through
the thousands of delicate, diplomatic gestures;
kind words to fathers of adolescent daughters;
how he preps the hot water; whether he cares;
and every message tutored from wearily living
out the silences that say more than they ought—
you

take no solace in knowing that killing yourself
is the last thing he will neglect to comprehend.