Thinking of you is an island, isolated from all hugs.
When I was young, I loved this sentence.
Chasing your frivolous steps, following behind you.
Although everyone says that falling in love with a gangster will never bring good results.
Slowly time really seems to take away some things.
There are thin lines at the corners of my eyes, and you are no longer you. The youth you once had disappeared, and you left.
If my following you without hesitation is like a moth flying into a flame, then my youth must have become a grand demise.