Stories Of The Han

I left my heart in Tokyo. It sits alone in a room occupied by the other. She pays no mind, she comes and goes. Alone it sits, quiet as a mouse. It wishes it could be free. It throbs but makes no noise. She pays no mind, she comes and goes. I left my heart in Tokyo. It’s in a room, sitting above the shelf. I miss my heart. I miss you. I miss me.