Skin him dearly, breathe him in

before you go,

in earnest longing;

You have a bad habit of leaving —

yet lingering like the scent

of Chiyo's incense.

Yet you always come back

knocking at his door at midnight —

and he had always waited for you, Hatsue —

He had always waited for you

in strange, barely escapable hours.

This, an unveiled obscurity — an epiphany

The enigma and clarity that perhaps —

perhaps you've always been his to love.