Like a bird that has just woken up, bathed in the warm spring light. There were no wings, and the wind caressed my long fluttering hair, like a fluttering thought. The sun is bright and glaring. Gently close your eyes, let the sun shine down, and slowly warm the pain in the dream. The heart of missing rises and falls, like the willows flying in this spring wind. Lingering, expectant of you, like a blue sky clean and transparent. Listen to the chirping of the birds and the sound of the wind blowing the treetops. Standing quietly in the daylight, enjoying the tranquility of this moment, enjoying the peace of this moment, the restless heart slowly calms down.
serenity
You also like the sun. Often I would dry myself in the sun and let this warmth pass in your and my mind. I can't see you, so I tie this thought to the wisps of light that shoot down, ride on this colorful dream, let it carry, and scatter the thoughts to the sky. I don't know what year and month it will shoot into your heart. More days and nights, this dream carries thick or light expectations, like a beautiful bubble, expecting in one loss after another, and losing one hope after another.
Sunlight Foam
How much time has I not seen you, how much time I haven't dried together in the sun, how much time I haven't seen your sunshine-like image of flowers lit up on my web. Looking at your gray name, looking at the only words you left behind, my heart suddenly felt inexplicably lost. Always missing your message, the heartstrings have long been disturbed by your secret name. For a long, long time, there were no grievances and no tears. I forgot how to think about you, how to write a text that I missed. But the calm heart often ripples with your shadow, and your turbulent shadow is in my rippled heart lake.
I don't know, on the other side, whether it will sigh in the blossoming and falling flowers, whether it will miss in the absence of a full moon. Gently combing the sun, combing through thousands of sorrows. When the clouds are light and the wind is light, I am like a bird perched on a branch, and I wait for the flowers on the branch to bloom at some point. Spring blossoms, this season you will not come back. You have planted a seed in the atrium of my heart,
I look forward to you giving me sunshine, giving me a gentle heart, and letting it grow into the branch I dwell on.
I wonder if my name will light up in your mind when you are busy, in the sea of traffic on your road, in your happy and sad days, do you think about me, whether you miss you as much as I do.
The moment the phone rang, my heart throbbed with the ringtone. I don't know how much time has been separated, how much space has been separated. Your voice crossed the ocean, over the peaks, over the barriers, jumping in front of me along an invisible line. Deep, mellow, magnetic and a little uninhibited. I can't see your expression, but I can hear your voice. It was as if you were right next to me, idling in my ear, how many nights of lovesickness, how many sadness of thinking of you and letting go, today I felt you again. Tight, I seem to be holding you, so tight, so tight, the suspended heart seems to have landed. However, there was a cold sting on my skin. The moment I opened my eyes, I burst into tears. It turned out that I wasn't holding you, but a cold phone with your text messages. Kiss your name constantly. I love, in the space where there is you, in the unforgettable acacia, in the time of day and night, I can't shake your shadow. But where you are when I need you, the distance is beyond my reach. Even in the airwaves, on the Internet of all messages, you are often busy when I am idle, but I am too busy to lift my head when you are idle. Who is making such a joke. Could it be that, really responding to that sentence, love is not in the service area?
Not in the service area
"Alone with no fence, unlimited closed mountains, not easy to see when difficult", do not dare to think about you, only because there will be infinite pain in your lovesickness. I dare not say that I love you, only because even the most beautiful expectations cannot withstand the erosion of long and boundless day and night loneliness.
The pear blossoms are thankful, the peach blossoms will bloom; the peach blossoms are falling, the mountain flowers are in full bloom, and the tired heart is warm and inclusive in the sun. I think like on the other side of the map, you are enjoying the spring sunshine like me. You are running around the world like the wind. But when you are tired and tired, who whispers around you and drives away your tiredness and bitterness with sweet words. In your world, in your sun, in your budding branches, who is perched and waiting. Your ambitions can travel thousands of miles, but I want to imprison you in a fixed nest. I love, I'm just a wingless bird that can't fly into your sunshine.
I'm just a wingless bird that can't fly into your sunshine.
The pain of longing often torments the difficulty of sleep, the Buddha said: Five hundred times of looking back in the past life, in exchange for the passing of this life, maybe in the past life we do not look back enough, so this life can only be spent in lovesickness. Listening to the poignant tunes in the songs, watching the world's divisions and combinations, maybe everything is not perfect, and perfect love is just the hope of people's dreams. I haven't waited for love, but I've already hurt, and I'm a little tired.
Just come from the winter, and this spring is the end of the mountain, the years in the drifting clouds, the dust in the heart of the back, will gradually go far, faint acacia, faint sorrow in the faint years passed. It has passed, my love, since it is destined to be a parallel double line, why should we expect to meet.
And you, in the silent night, no longer sleep, no longer ache the scars in your heart. The scabbed past will slowly evaporate into the sky.
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