One is the king's new favorite, the other the empress's trusted confidante.
Why, amid these pavilions and towers, red bricks and green tiles, can not a single tormented soul breathe freely?
We parted, we said goodbye. Or, put another way, we would never part.
But I still want to know: that lyric you recited to me that day, were you asking me to leave you, or to stay?
Those three words that caught in your throat, the ones you regretted never saying: were they "I'm sorry," or "I love you"?
