Time is like sand in your hand, slowly slipping away through the gaps between your fingers. You can't keep the joy, anger, sorrow, and joy if you want to, and can't hold on tightly if you want. It was only when my hands were empty that I realized that everything would disappear. I only remembered the feeling of fine sand rubbing against my skin. It was itchy, scratching my heart, and I couldn't stop.
And you are the last grain of sand left on the skin of my palm. The half life I spent with you is shining brightly under the sun.