Two Words They say some stories are made for forever— but never for now. Two drops fall from the same sky, but land on different leaves. Two notes hum the same tune, but never meet in the same verse. Spring returns, again. April leans in, quietly. Petals scatter where no footsteps dare. No names, no answers— only a hush that used to mean something. The garden remembers. The breeze still carries unfinished sentences, half-written lullabies, and the kind of silence you can almost mistake for understanding. We waited— somewhere between déjà vu and never-again. Built a language out of glances, broke it with distance. If only two words could hold everything we never said. But they never do. 有些话，说不出口。 Some words can never be said aloud.