l'Amour des Sept Annes

So many years' refreshment, so many years to forget all these feel of lonesomeness. Sometimes I just felt that you are still here with me. I still can feel the way you care about me. Although...not like a lover rather like monsieur Ibrahim in "Monsieur Ibrahim et les fleurs du Coran". So many years trying to get used to the life alone, so many other years I've try to chercher for another people to replace you yet failed... over and over again. For you are too perfect in those days and years in the pages of my life. So many years, I still cannot even believe I could be with you through over half a decade! Even though...you are not already the person I'd known. Somehow I still accidentally dreamed about the days you and me. Yet life always looks forward never looks back, I've tried to move on and stop feeling any about you and the days in those lovely but cruel "l'amour de la sept annes". I wish and always hope you could just be mere some pages of my story and buried with awfully thick dust and locked in the "let forgotten dungeon" never see the sun from the east and died again. Be my pages, I so beg of thee, mon seigneur d'ex et pas d'être permanent. adieu...et pardon. from the moment I left you suddenly have I realized gradually how much burden my love to you, how embarrassed had I made you be for so terribly long years. Pardon...Pardon...even I had promised you never say pardon... therefore, I just let the "Lullaby de Cain" play again... et again...sleep now Inot...just pretend that you never wake again and peacefully fall...to hell and burn in it. Just like what you used to dream of dying the way you've wanted so greedly but never yet happen to poor thee...for death one day would reward you with one most precious and breathtaking kiss of corps. Adieu adieu my bright bright daybreak...bon mort...