I have been searching, from flowers blooming to falling, from spring to autumn, but I am always confused.
"You want to leave?" There was no retention, no sadness, it was as calm as if I was a stranger who passed by by chance.
I vaguely remember that the flowers bloomed that day, and I went on a journey that had no end and was at a loss.
I said, I want to have someone who is always ready to elope.
You froze under the sycamore tree, looking at each other, speechless.
I still remember that you left when the flowers fell that day. Or, it never existed.
Your shallow words are still echoing in the air. I don't want to be gorgeous in a moment, but I want the water to flow slowly.