Time flies like a shuttle, constantly flowing away. Our past is like a mountain stream, gradually seeping into the gaps of the years. What is left after the sieve is my pale and weak love, alone, and gradually losing its original appearance.
A tear fell down my cheek, drawing a trace of sadness on the precious powder. I looked along the corner of your eyes, looking for the time we had spent together in the depths of your pupils. Those who I loved deeply and hated so much, you and me.