Autumn Stories

不小心把时空写成云烟。
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I do not seem to have enough stories
to keep the conversation going
When I listen to strangers chattering
realize those unlimited details
are making stories
that I always skip or care less
They could cherish how someone else
said, or how their facial expression looked
or reiterated the dialogue word by word
that I always try to block them entirety
No wonder
I am always left behind as the bare tree in the autumn
let the leaves of gossip
simply flying
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