The remaining souls hidden in the white will-o'-the-wisps sang softly.
It's like
After drinking all the coffee, there is still the lingering fragrance of cup stains.
Maybe love is bitter, but there is always a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste.
I sang the love song again and again, and there seemed to be an unknown feeling that continued, tingling a certain part of my heart bit by bit.
After a long time, I discovered,
That's what I'm missing,
I miss the aftertaste of love you gave me.