Who is, provoked my thoughts, I'd only keep this seat empty?
Gradually accustomed to a plain face, wearing a black
windbreaker, once the elegant long hair has turned into his hair,
walking in the street, go in to your way, I know your shadow,
everywhere.
The street, we used to hold each other's hand, always afraid of in the turbulent flow is spread.
Unhappy, we'll sit side by side on the rooftop, against the wind, looking at the sky, and together we gently tears.
After the class, you always use the bike with me, through street after street, and together we smile.
I was always happy, happy, you always used to rub my hair and
say, stupid girl.I like you call me.I thought that I have been so
happy to old, also think our love enduring as the universe, the end of
life.
A simple greeting, a deep review, stroking the hair of
compassion, refers to the ten winding when warm, sincere embrace the
warmth......All in all, in the then quietly frames in the memory.
Imprint is engraved on my heart. Memories, glimpsed pictures,
with the morning wind crushing, scattered all over the world.At the
heart of pain in a corner, those once exchange solemn vows and
pledges, ashes to ashes.
The street people are hurrying to and fro. So there, sunshine.And I, can only soak with tears, walk.
Red much sorrow, lonely red dust, bitter red, Miss World, only
put this feeling in my heart is a shallow diversification into the
silent memory.
If you like flowers, the flower to recall, passing stories must end, finally leaving me alone, waiting for the ghost town.
The city is located in where, no matter what side of themselves,
no matter the city flourishing or desolate, no matter the city
developed or backward, in order to you, I will stick to this city,
[a person] -- - waiting
Who is this life, cut the line, you will be flying in the distant horizon.
Frozen love, in addition to forget but how?Look, the sunshine
outside the window is long, diffuse through the earth every inch of
the skin, but can not filter the sadness of my heart.
Sunny afternoon, before the screen, static low, short word sentences, using a paper ink, writing to make our past memories.
A pink coat, a pair of high-heeled boots, this winter, on shallow language.
Misty, passing into a piece of beautiful snow flakes, in the
howling wind falling into a Qingliang and shallow warm complaining.
Thoughts over your windowsill, gently across your face.Want to
see your eyes, look at your eyes with tenderness.Wish forever in the
palm of your hand, writing a little tenderness, with softness, while
embracing the sweet love, kiss of happiness, love the plaintive
sorrow, love when love with an air almost of idiocy, persistent.
Look, how much worry, for only in the fingertiplakes, in the
howling wind falling into a Qingliang and shallow warm complaining.
