I haven't been to the library for a long time. Since I broke up with you, that space no longer belongs to me. With memories, it seems to be a taboo in my life. My footsteps gradually got used to retreating, and then I turned and fled with the mountains of old times. I'm afraid of the invasion of memories. I'm afraid it's like flickering light and shadow between layers of quicksand.
I agreed to stay away from you smartly, just as I pretended not to care when I was with you. However, now, without you, I can no longer lift my drooping eyebrows. For me, pity or hatred flowing from the eyes around me is the real light cloud and light wind. I don't care and I don't want to worry.
I collected all the years after you left. Full of lovelorn taste, only for me to taste. I stood alone at the crossroads of time, picked up a yellow leaf that suddenly fell in a relationship and put it in my heart silently. I stood in the wind, talking to the dead leaves, telling you and me again and burying it.
I think, although the world is bustling, maybe only this thread can understand my mood.
When I throw away everything related to you, no one can understand how hurt my heart is under my determined expression. I refused every comforting word I heard around me. "Remembering" can only increase my past pain. They say that I am too heartless, and I clearly know that you have never left me any leisure to be reborn on the ship you are sailing on. Even though you have lived in my world for two years, you have never seen how stiff my hands become when I let you go. I dare not stare at anything with your figure. I want to escape the pain that has always been remembered. I live an escape life, looking for a corner to hide in the collapse of lovelorn.
Every time I touch the past unconsciously, it is a new scar for me. My bloodshot red eyes lost their vitality. The library witnessed the imprint of our love. I still remember your gentleness and my impudence when I first met you. I returned the wrong book to you, and you took it with a smile. In countless sun and moon, we sat side by side, and the lamp overhead rendered the continuous affection of the two on the page. I like to send you short messages under the covers in the middle of the night to tell you my nightmares. I listened to your stories and jokes quietly with my mobile phone, and your gentle and familiar voice sent me to sleep again. You like watching me play the erhu. You will cheer for me before I go on stage. On the stage, you smiled at me. When I stepped down, your applause was the best reward for me. You said I played the erhu very well. I once spent a month knitting a scarf for you. Blue is your favorite color. You don't mind my clumsy knitting. This scarf has been around your neck all winter, although it is really ugly.
I deleted your photo, hoping that your breath can be removed from my mind and heart from now on. However, the dribs and drabs with you still come involuntarily, like an irresistible night, wrapping me tightly and suffocating me. I stood in the rain beads all over the sky, asking God to wash away the track of your life. However, until now, I can still see you reaching out to me through the rain curtain and leading me to look back on the old days. The overwhelming past years kept chasing me, and I ran desperately in your opposite direction, but there was always nowhere to hide.
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