The imprint of the rain

This is the breath of your spring rain, I want to lie in your heart, but I still can't find the warmth of your heartbeat in an instant.

An old boy, holding an umbrella, wandering alone, drifting in this mist and rain, his scattered back has long forgotten the joy and sorrow.

Throw away the umbrella, be a child playing in the rain, open your hands, face the sky on your back, pinch the wet, and carefully hold you in your mouth.

With tears in my eyes, I savored the lovesickness that only belonged to me, I am me, you are still you, and the cold kiss marks on my face are just the marks of the rain.

Maybe tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, the sun will rise as usual, and the wind will quietly blow a drunken and slightly drunk blur, but the heart is gradually cold, who pities it?