A Broken Pen Becomes a Monument

They became each other's living tombstones, One measures loneliness between the pages of a book, One stares at the ruins in the dark. Youth had already died in that summer, The rest of my life is just... A lengthy funeral was held for the remains. (The blood book marks the fate of life and death, the broken pen penetrates the palm and binds the two souls. The cicada sheds and hangs in the air for eternal burial in the summer, and the scars are carved into the bones to sacrifice youth)