The years that have been missed in this life have bloomed colorful crape myrtle flowers in the northern desert, but the spring and summer of reincarnation have been barren. No matter how many years later, I will miss you with such a posture: tears are ink, memory is the pen, and then carefully write down your words and sentences.
Baby, I miss you everywhere, but my heart is buried deeply. There are only intermittent words in my life that flutter in my memory, you will never appear in my world again, you are in a hurry, I am sad, and I would rather bury myself and no longer cause dust. Although I always pick up the pen and get hurt, looking back, the first time we met, although it was indifferent, it was so beautiful. Although I live in the depths of the red dust, my heart has already passed through the abyss, and sometimes I have brought back the memories that I have traced, and I have also made it blur with time and soak in sorrow.
Those memories in my heart that I can't let go of will always affect a certain place in my heart, and it hurts and hurts. With the accumulation of scattered fragments, the thin and cool words are also built into an impermeable wall, you can't get in, I can't get out. In the end, I will definitely set the permission of the blog, no longer give you the best smile, from now on, the bits and pieces of life, joys and sorrows, only for myself, slowly savor.
I'm still very dull, still wandering between ideals and fantasies, preferring not to wake up, in the deepest dreams, in the best of times. Imagine that I still have the string of your kite in my hand. I said, I really, really love you, but you really, really don't need it anymore. In the silence of the night, I heard the sound of tears, and I cried again and again.
Silently turning the pages of text, immersed in this poetic realm, I always thought that one day, the dream would become a reality, and now it seems that waiting, just my solo dance. Perhaps, today is the last time to write love, perhaps, this life is deep, I can't reach the end, in the end, I can only end the world.
I kept tapping on the keyboard, trying to use this broken text to draw an end to this encounter, scattered and scattered, but pulled myself into the barren abyss, I said that my heart was dead, but there was still a little sadness and a few sighs, that's it, that's it. I am the smile left on your lips, apply some faint incense, meet you with a soft heart in the deepest red dust, like, exist in a silent posture! In the red dust, I like to love you in my own unique way in an indifferent atmosphere!
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Time flies, in an instant, n loads have passed, thousands of miles apart, the sky overhead is already different cloudy and sunny, and the mood of experience can no longer affect each other; But the longing is still the same, never decayed, only because of the distance and deeper, long-lasting. The breath of longing flows in the air, accompanied by the fragrance of flowers, with the breeze, but have you ever smelled it in the distance?
Time is like a dream, life is like a song. When love has become a song, what is left in life is still moving. Now I am accustomed to forgetting laughter; For emotions, get used to overdrafts; For the pain, I am used to tasting it alone. I just want to hold hands with you to compose a romantic and happy love song, such as drinking a glass of happy wine and holding the happiness that accompanies you all the way!
I looked up at the sky, as if I saw you smiling at me, I was smiling silly, the sky was so blue, and you were so far away from me......Love goes from pure white to pale, from pale to dust. When the lead bloom is gone, in the end, it can't escape the sand of time, and stands pale at the end of the season covered with fallen leaves, gloomy and dead. The past is fading away, and countless sorrows have confused your and my thoughts, so please listen to these sad songs that involve our thoughts.
I use the fragments of time to strengthen the impregnable city in my heart. Those fragments of light that cannot be pieced together, memories fall into the eyes of the lost. Lovesickness is not a blind date, love is not together, love is at hand, people are at the end of the world; It is not surprising that this thought can only be melted in the wind, dissolved in the water, blown into the distance, and flowed into other lands, even if the wind is raging and the waves are turbulent.