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All is at odds with us. Doomed were the threads that tensely held the alliance of us.

Amongst the wet gloomy walls, she was slowly walking. With each step, further and further away from us. I used to call her Liu Lu. The elusive, implausible, unpredictable Liu Lu. Of course, that was not her real name. That was the name of the person she was to me.

We are all a ramification of our past. Casted-off, pre-owned forms of who we used to be. It is all I can remember now: who I used to be when I was with you. That was all I ever was.

The impression of delight. That’s what we were. Cold were the footsteps I took, on these warm afternoon tiles. It was a state of the continuous, everlasting sunset that was glimpsing through our soaked, spinning chamber. That was our four-walled exile. The alliance of us ran from the perplexity of reality. And in that, the intact creation of us existed. Knocking down all ruins and slumps of days and nights of my head, we outlived, outlasted all the cracked smiles and frigid silences, all the underpasses of our mind. With each moment, she tensely rubbed and peeled off her skin, sour from unease.

There were no roads around us, people disappeared by our side. It was inevitable, foreseeable, as the upcoming murk of us kept coming more and more alive with each day. There was nothing left to do. They came after us to hunt us, drive us, force us to the edge of the uproar. To the crumbed, crashed edge of the inner mirk. One more step. One more.

And that was the story of us. I stood still. I did not move. Still while all among us was lost, floating dreams fluttered. With a stretched skin I beg for it to come back: traces of feet on the cold tiles, pillowcases smelled with hope, the walls in which the love gathers. We stand alone while the prints of the past swish us. Crossing over me and drowning me into immensity. Wrapped, intertwined, buried with expired opportunities.

I co-exist with the setting feelings of the former. Former me, former you and the former fragile bodies filled with former longings. You thrive in the corners, in the inflows of me. With wet cheeks, gloomy looks, stay here. As long as the rays of the past shine upon you with inextinguishable, unrepentant longing.

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