When the night fell, I was still chasing your past under the slanting sun. Without hesitation on the edge, the night was approaching, crashing into the eyelashes of the night, Shan Shan, looking at each other. I thought that the maturity of the night would become stronger and stronger, but I still couldn't lift myself, and I looked forward to the immaturity.
You say; I do not understand the darkness of the night, for only the night will brighten your eyes, like the stars, like the moon. But who understands, in my vision, the doubtful gaze, dyed lonely into ashes...
Many words, in the end, can not be flat in the palm of the hand, even, can not be put in the sun to drink, can only be carefully hidden in the sleeve, locked, sealed, with the wind and the moon precipitation. Only when you miss it, you can lie down in the quiet of the night, secretly spread your palms, talk to yourself, and chew on the lonely aftertaste.
Or, these words, like many preparations, many fabrics, are waiting for a careful indifference. Then the loneliness, as if the world had stopped spinning.
Send you time, give me loneliness, give you space, and be lonely and boundless for me. Each other's time is actually very short, but each other sends him a lot of smoke and dust, like this night. Is it your selflessness, or my ignorance? Between the bright sun and the bright moon, who will allow you not to give up, in exchange for a lifetime of life and death?
Who can promise you the invariance of this life, and embrace the joy of your life. Who knows, the brilliance in the sunset is just a splash of glittering rouge. The thinness in the night is just the hidden potential of the stagecoach.
Ask the heart, listen to the sea? How can the waves be surging after a long time? Colorful casual, squandered and no longer looking. If you miss the flowering period, how can you leave a wisp of incense in vain. At the origin, waiting for you to sniff? When habit, and discomfort walk into the night. Ask yourself: Which kind of easy publicity will have a long silence and a far desolation in the twilight gradient?
The language of release is very light, and the light can be provoked by thoughts. The fragments of wandering and night that are trying to be spliced together are connected to a section of fragmentary fragments, but they are always broken into debris after splicing, and even burned into ashes. Become a cloud of smoke that passes by, a stream of fireflies.
Standing like this shore of water, I dare not gaze into the night, and the eyes of the night. Even if, the voice of the thought writing comes from the place where the flowers bloom. I once warned you and me, don't let the heart drift for too long, drift away, it is easy to get lost. Uneasy about your mess, like the wind slanting the rain, do not know their own landing point, can only go with the wind, can not themselves.
Think more, your gaze, still tirelessly measuring the distance when I came, and sending me back to the original point. Even if you can't find the direction and don't know where you are, you'd rather drift at will, follow you, travel far, follow you, and grow old.
Like the night of the water, I still dare not stare into your eyes, not for fear of your coldness, but for fear that my gaze will pierce you, sting you, the clothes of tranquility. Lock my eyes, and then, make a leisurely look, learn to forget, learn to be indifferent, although, the heart, is falling red.
It is not the intention of forgetting, it is really inadvertent, inadvertently learn to forget, but learn to deliberately not to miss. Just like me, after reading a story, after releasing the volume, returning the story to the book, and then, clapping my hands, quietly leaving.
Learned to stop, but failed to learn to stay. Failed to learn to garrison. I learned to bend over, but I didn't learn to pick it up, I didn't learn to put it down. Learned to turn, but failed to learn to look back, failed to learn to turn. Learned to give up, but failed to learn to let go, failed to learn to rest assured. The heart, because of you, the night, because of you.
It's dawn, the dream should wake up, I think, the laughter on your pillow has not gone far, even if it is far away, warm, still there. If I'm not there, I'll bless you; like the song "Find an Angel to Love You." The warm sun that is about to come is to give you, the future me, the look of a smile. If you remember, you'll blink your eyes and smile. For example, the stars of this night. The Sun after him.
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