The years are your white shirt, the tiny petals growing from your fingers, and your eyes as deep as the blue lake under your delicate brows.
It's your gentleness that's so close, it's your waiting spirit, it's the blurred dream, it's the flower that's waiting for a miracle, it's your figure that rushes fearlessly.
It's the tears that fall when you hold my hand, it's the entanglement in it, it's the loneliness that you pretend to be cold, it's loneliness and strength...
It is you who allow the temperature of time to fit so closely to every inch of my skin.
If I hadn't met you, I'd be afraid that it would be like fireworks falling, and the countless joys and sorrows in the world would just be light and dark in an instant.
But when I meet you, even if the years are misaligned, they will fall beautifully on our lips. Before we say goodbye, we will love each other.
Conception: