I used to be separated by my footsteps,
but now no one cares that it is buried by weeds,
your eyes are only waiting for a green,
and everything other than your mind is placed on the white flowers outside the window.
And sad people want to avoid a blue,
and lie in the same nest with the queen every year.
The changes of light and shadow in the four seasons make people wonder why,
so I choose to walk towards the sunset and go
to the desert to see the lingering of wind and sand.
Recalling the evening when we were together one day,
you crushed a butterfly with your pale fingers, and the
clear liquid stuck to a begonia flower.
You said that things end like this, and
it is painful to render a kind of beauty,
so I stood opposite the distant mountains,
meditating on how the dark night swallows everyone's sight,
and no one can pray for eternal life in your lust.
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