The tide in the heart was overwhelmed by the heartbeat. Silence, but also willingly, the habit of being torn and crushed at a glance.
A handwritten letter cannot hold back the gulf between us. You’re looking down from the top of a cliff, and I’m used to freeing fall. The dream says goodbye to the world a thousand times, but the physical body remembers the pain of being whipped by reality. The burned part of the brain’s memory spreads and enlarges. Scar dances over me. The temperature of tears is always less than the speed of your barbed look and your turn to say goodbye.
(You look like something that doesn’t exist, it’s like your mobile phone number can’t always be displayed on the other party’s screen, it’s your own disability)