Post Script

Now, as before, love is full of hours of meetings….

But this is just a mirage of memories.

Love passed away like a silent shadow.

Just let all go, vanish traceless.

You may throw  away the flowers

But in dead petals, there is a lot of flavours

And such beauty.

Both of them were lying,

Both of them knew that,

What a strange and terrible game!

In the end, there is a cruel truth:

It is time to live the present

The past remains past.