Tears flow down my cheeks, the taste of salty, just like the taste of missing. The withering of the stamens, as once promised, the landscape is far away, the origin is dead, love is full of absurd words, a bitter tear.
Love is a promise scattered in the wind, and I am no longer waiting and waiting hard. Love is a parting song sung in the rain, and I no longer pursue and wait and see painstakingly.
Waiting is an old oath. You listen, the wind outside the window, has changed the season, you are still keeping a lost promise? Are you still waiting for someone who won't come back?
I, is a stubborn person, also has a stubborn heart. If love has become the end of parting, I will never get involved in your story again, even if the love is still there, the heart is in pain, the tears fall, and the sadness flows against the river, I will not look back.
I think, like the passage of time, he can no longer stir up a ripple in the lake of my heart, and he has long been a distant phantom in my mind, but, like the beautiful family of flowers, I am thinking, in this life, whose hand will we hold and grow old together?
Melancholy, is once written word by word, left behind the scars, years of habit. Desolate the warmth of the heart, desolated the blooming of the heart flowers, absurd a play dream, wasted a lake of tears.
Once, thought that to love a person is a lifetime, hold his hand, grow old together. Later, finally learned in tears, love is like fireworks, the moment Fangfei, too true too beautiful and too short, no time to blink, tears fell.
In this life, there are always too few people who love each other. Over the years, dare not let themselves think too much, contaminated too much, just let themselves immersed in the sad country, their own licking wounds, comfort and healing.
Over the years, the taste of loneliness is still so deep, accustomed to a person's sentimental, picking up flowers at night, sitting alone in a corner, alone on a tall building, looking up alone, listening to sad songs, reading favorite books, writing sad words, going their own way.
The lights are dim, and occasionally, I miss him very much, and that's just what happened. A dream of broken bridge, occasionally, I will think of him, perhaps, like an old friend. It is hard to avoid occasional thoughts in life.
The years can no longer withstand the waves. He is just the past of his own time, and he is no longer the one in his heart. Pen and ink debut, after the vicissitudes of life, in this life, whose hand, grow old together?
This life, do not want to rush to hold a person's hand, then in a hurry in the old years. This life, just want to choose someone, help each other, hand in hand, walking in the sunset tomorrow.
The years of evolution, the feelings that hope to remain the same. A fickle face, an unchanging mind of hope. In this life, you will always allow a person to spend it together. If you love your heart and hold your hand, you will no longer let go.
These years, not stingy with their own feelings, is not dare to love easily. All these years, it is not that I am not lonely, but I dare not accept it easily. All these years, it's not that I don't want to love, but I'm afraid of getting hurt. Over the years, it is not that I do not look forward to dreams, but I am more afraid of the fragmentation of dreams.
In the wind, watching the promise drift away, one by one away. In the rain, feeling the mixture of rain and tears, cool and warm. In the years, looking at the gradually changing face, feeling the vicissitudes of the soul, I am also slowly getting old.
Time running water, pale memory. When you are in the prime of the year, you slowly grow old. After all these years, is there anyone who can make himself not lonely? In this life, whose hand do you hold and grow old together?
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