Since I met you, the world is no longer blurry and clear. You are restless and linger among the flowers, as if in a state of intoxication... You fly around, but you can't fly to me. I can only look at you infatuatedly, hoping that you can take a break. Perfect love is already a kind of meandering, a tortuous rhyme, a bumpy romance. There is only gray in my heart... The pain in my heart is like the impact of a long knife... From deep love to broken love, from familiarity to strangers, from eternal lifelong partners to strangers walking on the street...
