The passage of time is like a subtraction problem, quickly peeling away the time that I vowed to stick to, and now only a few fragments are left, leaving a whole blank in the middle. Where do I look for you?
Like handwriting slowly being buried by the tide, no matter how profound it was when it was originally written, it was still covered up by the sea water, leaving not even a faint trace. Where can I find you?
There was no goodbye, only news of the passing from other people's mouths.
No goodbye, a hasty farewell to the life longing for the distance.
No goodbye, just like this, we can never see each other again.
Conception: