You are the colorful withering in my eyes

It used to be colorful
Each color was a moment
Each moment was destined to pass
Until those color withered away
I can not see
Those colors
As if the winter's scream tears me apart
Tearing into every fragment that has you
Each fragment has its unique shape
Each shape is a moment
Turning into every paled present
So
What color is memory?
What color are you?
I can not recall
Only the scattered shapes remain
As if everything is still there
Also, as if it's not…

The distance between us is a straight line
Countless points leap up
In this surface
No intersecting forces
Everything is just
A fleeting splendor
And
The rendered seasons
Colors gradually calm in their dance
Only left are those shapes
Therefore
Each shape has a special trace
Each trace is a symbol
Becoming every sound in my world         
You can hear
In the parallel seasons
Those tear-like
Gray and transparent…