What about happiness
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When the dust settles, all memories become spiritual regrets, perhaps the most beautiful words can be used to modify sadness, the past, such as smoke, ethereal in the world, wandering is the soul of the deepest persistent depth, perhaps no longer disturbing the fragile mood, should only be faintly hidden in the world of mortals.
You say that no woman makes you reluctant to part as much as I do, right? like the seeds brought by the wind, you can sow seeds everywhere. You seem to see only the moment when it falls away, but you don't know how it bypasses the mud and opens the rock. tenaciously take root under your eaves, so that all your feelings become the most beautiful in its silent growth.
You hold its petals, fragrant and refreshing, you pick the bright bone flowers in the palm of your hand, have you ever thought that what is left is only the moment of the scenery, when you wake up the loneliness of sleep again, only to find that under the same eaves, in the same flowers, you can no longer find the fragrant shadow, the spring flowers have long known the destination of falling into the mud, how do you know the sorrow floating in the wind?!
Flowers do not know drunk, drunk in the spring breeze lotus pond, fragrant spit Rui, contend for Fang Dou Yan, that full of flowers are to win that glance of intoxication, no matter how beautiful flowers, are difficult to withstand wind and rain, scattered is once withered, leaving behind is a short-lived beauty.
You said that we will go to the end, you will take good care of the flowering period so that the beauty of blooming flowers will always become your heart to follow, but, in this world, and you have the same similar life, but also have the same sunrise and sunset as always, the same triviality, the same affection, but in the initial beauty, gently write a different ending, when you are blurred, he fragrant heart moment.
Do you recall the beauty of the past?
Will you have a spasm in your heart for a moment?
Before the flowers and the moon, poems and songs, full of feelings, endless lovesickness, the bitterness of the two cities, at the moment of the rise of each round moon, with the ebb and flow of the tide, carrying their ups and downs, faintly will inexplicably unknown thoughts slowly climb the treetops, sing once songs, is the melody we wrote each other, you sing the mood of missing me, I hum the mood of missing you, is full of love.
Like the world is not extraordinary, but let people so wandering, I believe I will belong to you, you will be my only.
Fill a cup of fragrant tea, sitting alone in front of this computer screen, waiting for your profile picture to light up, is a kind of waiting for mood, but also a kind of eager joy, you say that we are together, with the same nickname, the same matching password, can be used with each other, both sides can have the same space, yes, it is a kind of graceful romance, people can not wait sweetly.
Write a diary about you, which is full of you, your smiling eyes are like a curved crescent moon, as if telling mysterious words of love, love is so flawless in your fundus.
The shadow in the moonlight is always distant, the lighted tobacco is rising slowly in front of your eyes, shrouding the whole heart like a mist, you plant a blue rose quietly in the head of my sleeping bed, under the rose hangs a small star, how beautiful, I open the stars, your handwriting, thick and powerful "We agreed, walk together happy"
In the memory without any trace to be found, unconsciously, we became each other's most beautiful passers-by, sitting quietly on the edge of the river pool, looking at the full moon reflected on the surface of the water. Today, a few years later, are we all right?
When the wind blows messy hair, can you think of me once, the one you once missed and loved?
When things change, everything has already become smoke and smoke, who can recall this face that is no longer naive and no longer smiles?
I have also tried to extract your face from my mind, is it old?
Or is it still so full of youth?
Looking back with a smile and resentment, if I were a white fox, I think I would wait for you for a thousand years, waiting for a thousand years of helplessness. People say that a thousand years of spiritual practice has become a human form, and a thousand years of waiting for a thousand years has become a couple. I have been waiting for nearly a hundred years before the Buddha, but I can't resist the cold in my heart.
What about the happiness we talked about?
Is it already in the dark to follow the disillusionment of the expedition on the way?
Two lonely cities, two lonely souls, it turns out that love is not when the peaks no longer have edges, when all things in the world turn into nothingness, they will be parted from the king and will be cut off.
The feeling of quietly passing away, blowing the fiery feelings in the autumn wind, when the east rises and falls in the west every day when every moment of the wind and unboiled water rises, and then the attachment of the past will become clouds and smoke, not the vicissitudes of the sea into vicissitudes of life, nor the hardship of the sea, but, when you open the dusty memories, will there be such a city, such a person, such a memory, let you quietly cry?
You don't need to remember your face, and you don't need to remember your sweetness, but do you forget the promise of happiness?