Documenting my romantic life
Your heart does not obey the call, and leads alone to the icy road, like a general who embarks on a journey, and never turns his back on the plan of iron.
At such an age, it is too early to talk about death, it is too old to talk about love, and it is too sloppy to keep your mouth shut.
As the years go by, you seem to have missed the beat.
But you didn't receive the tax to the years, just when you wanted to cry without tears, the light boat handed over a piece of ocean.
The shoulders and the road are the most straightforward backers, the snow evaporates all the way, a disgusted desolate flower, blooming on the shoulder, the shoulder is solid and reliable but still busy, busy in order not to be blind.
A wish to be born in the stamen, a plan to die in the fragrance, flying clouds and traveling birds, uphold the charm of obsession.
Pick up their hometown and fly to nothingness, the only thing that can order them to return is the green leaves in their bodies.
It's not that you don't have light, it's just that you haven't been overpolished, and you're not a descendant of white light, but you haven't met the person with a face full of gems.
Seeing that the years continue to shrink, it dries faster than the years themselves, it is better to cover your eyes and take off the bad bell of Pegasus, which is more reliable, and there is no rush without vigilance.
You think, if you keep waving the spoon of the Big Dipper, there will always be a time when the foam will be skimmed off, and at that time, the boiling and torment are all clear and bright.