The end of the sea
The sail of the heart.
You say go to the end of the sea, and leave the hustle and bustle of the city again.
There is a golden sunset.
Draped in the deep blue sea, reflection.
It's our prayers.
But another storm is coming, and the lies are close to your sight.
Betrayal—like a gallows to kill trust, a green cloud dwells above my head.
He kissed the one I had attached.
That one is soft.
Rubbing his lip gloss on his lips, his hand restlessly pushed towards her full breasts, from the back to the first breast.
But at the end of the sea, the reef looked silently, like a lonely lighthouse, and the scattered messages were unattended.
The waves swelled again, and the cigarette butts were hazy with a few sighs.
Shadow, I and I, this time neither of us spoke, just looking for each other in vain.
It seems that the past day touched her delicate soul, from greetings to nothing to say.
I love someone, I don't want to bless.
I have no right to accuse here, I have no right to ask, so why should I ask again.
I had gone out of bed with you defiled by him, and I thought it was holy.
He planted a touch of red, soft in you.
The white neck is an inch down behind the base of your ear.
He left without looking back and without a sound.
We've been gone for a long time, and it's like we've lived a lifetime.
At the end of the sea, half-drunk and half-awake, you suddenly leaned out and kissed my lips, with the tip of your tongue.
Hold against the roof of my mouth.
It will all change, it will be far away, and it will be light and light
The sail of the heart.
Endless snow, falling like stars in the dark night, wine in the cup, bitterness has nowhere to enter my heart.
Like a deer in the mist of the forest, sad and desperate, trying to find the exit, with a long wind, but lost the distance.
It's like being shackled all your life, and you don't know that it's the chains that bind the body.
Or is the flesh accustomed to chains?
All these years, in order to live, bloody and broken wings.
DID YOU KNOW? People don't live for just a few.
Scraps of paper in Morandi colors.
DID YOU KNOW? If you want to have it before you have it, you have to have it before you don't have it.
One flower is one world, one leaf is one Bodhi.
Bodhi has no tree, and the mirror is not a platform.
Bitterness is to be secularized, to be obliterated with your head held high.
However, he was obliterated, tried his best, and was said to be useless.
DID YOU KNOW? Eternal sky, once wind and moon.
Three thousand prosperous, a snap of a finger, a hundred years later, but a handful of yellow sand.
What it looks like, what it looks like-
Read the Sleep Poet Shooting.
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life.