Selected Works of Aesthetic Love Prose: Autumn wind blows, and I no longer love you.
Author: a wisp of morning breeze
It was a beautiful afternoon. I am holding an umbrella and you are carrying a bag. You look at me, I look at you. You said: it's you. I said, you are still the same. The story continues from that moment, but it is not love. For me, love never fell from the sky, but I can't avoid becoming a medicine for others to heal. When I found out, love was deep, too deep to extricate myself. Who says that when you love others, you also give others the right to hurt you? Pain, struggle, but still death. However, the story will not produce pity because you are hurt.
? I admit, you love me the most, but I don't love you the most. She came back to me. ?
Endless secret package, what about love, and who really cares about giving.
In that case, I will do it.
I packed my luggage, but I didn't pack my heart. In a daze, I returned to the place where I had lived for two years. I didn't change the lock. I secretly wonder if he is waiting for me to come back. In the fog, I saw the door open. ? I have a fever, so cold. ? I'll sleep outside. Go by yourself. ?
Bloom's falling flowers turned out to be just a kind of affection. I thought it was our acquaintance and love in my life, which was exchanged for 500 times in my last life. I didn't leave any trace in your heart. Hate, since it can't last forever, why stop at the beginning. Destined to pass by, I will eventually become a demon. I thought this hatred would last forever.
Never awake in a nightmare, hastily confessed to life. But you called and said I lost my room key. Please send yours to me. I am a mess. Although I tried to tell myself not to cry, I still couldn't restrain my cool mood and broken heart.
In despair, he came to Beijing with another one like a puppet. No house, no car, no deposit. Don't be sad.
The days are as light as water, and there is no surprise even for pregnancy.
Memories slowly fade and then fade under the running water of time?
Some scenery, some passers-by, some vague, some strange. I read it gently, and my heart ached faintly.
Sure enough, some people walked away, and some scenery faded when you looked at it.
The autumn wind blows, cold and empty. Recalling the heartache of those years, my mouth rose. I haven't opened the page for a long time. I just uploaded your photo in Shaoxing. Familiar and unfamiliar faces have no waves in my heart.
It turns out that many things, except dreams, have been recovered by time.
Now, I just want to see you once in a while, wish you a better life, and then say silently: I loved you!
Don't reply again, because I am grateful, grateful to meet you in the most beautiful years, in the lush years.
Selected Works of Aesthetic Love Prose: You are the warm mark on my brow.
Author: Listen to your heart.
A stream of flowers, autumn rain at half time. Time makes everything dull. Yesterday's prosperity, like today's fallen flowers, has already become a sweet shadow. Experienced too much wind and rain, witnessed countless vicissitudes, tired, tired, let it sleep quietly. No longer expect, no longer expect, just want to engrave a warm mark on my forehead forever. ? Listen to the inner voice
The annual rings of time change alternately with the seasons. Leaning against the window, quietly looking at the moonlight outside the window, there is always a faint fragrance in every gap. Swift in the forest, lightly through the willow curtain, stretched colorful feathers, with endless thoughts, gently calling in the wind, shallow voice smiling. Perhaps, a love will flow into a river after a hurricane and rainstorm. Can you keep a fuzzy temperature in the hazy misty rain?
In late autumn, take a ray of moonlight and cherish your tenderness deeply. Every petal has a warm and affectionate memory. Every fallen leaf is a story with various customs. Every red flower is sad for you, tears for you, grieves for you and is ecstatic for you. In the purest night, I will miss you gently and chase the fireworks of human love in the direction of my heart?
Flowers spend their whole lives waiting for summer, cicada's confession, butterfly's stretching, bloom's stunning, a wisp of fragrant soul. Those once warm, always quiet in my life, condensed in a purplish petal, lingering in a misty rain, intoxicated by the color of a crescent moon. A love, a love, I don't know how much suffering I have suffered, how much heart I have warmed, and how many dreams I have drunk.
On a quiet night, the moonlight falls in front of the window, watching meteors pass through the night sky, making my thoughts drift with the wind, quiet, beautiful, indifferent and colorless. Missing is beautiful. Who do you care about? Who is it for? In fact, I think you are always in a casual moment, so that I can miss you gently across the rainy coast. On the edge of a bloom, I am no longer lonely.
Find a gentle fragrance of true feelings, put the relaxed mood in quietly, bind it in the notes of time fragrance, and live in your heart forever. Gently take off a purple flocculus, rhyme and dye the flower dew, appreciate the romance of flowers, the lingering of butterflies, and recall the happiest attachment of the old year. How deep you love, how long you care. This is the taste of life and the love of love. Feel the most beautiful flowers at that time with deep affection.
Picking the fragments of time, can it still be spliced into a beautiful part? There is no color in memory, as if the world is raining. I don't know, is the road where we met still prosperous? Does the cottage where we lived still smell of your fragrance? Outside the window, the bright moonlight shed a drop of dew in late autumn, which became an irreplaceable feeling and an unforgettable name.
Memory, in a flower and a tree, slowly unfolds a yearning, looks at it gently in the wind, and dyes it wantonly in the rain. Every day I never thought of, my brow drooped, but it was a faint figure emerging between my eyebrows. Perhaps, after a touch of bitterness, missing is always a refreshing fragrance. In every morning and evening when the wind is light and the rain is soft, time will be drunk and the years will be quiet.
I always thought that amazing meeting would be the most beautiful love in my life. I always thought that unforgettable love would be the most beautiful fireworks in the fleeting time, but it turned out to be a deep love. Yesterday's turn turned into today's memories. Only when you are calm can you hear your own voice. Only when the mind is clear can we see the essence of everything. If I were a fish, I would no longer be infatuated with the sky. If I were a bird, I would no longer be infatuated with the ocean. I, no longer have ethereal luxury?
This autumn, flowers and rain meet unexpectedly. They smiled at each other, listened to each other and were immersed in happiness. Rain, stopped, quietly turned away, flowers, opened, with charm and charm, in full bloom. Their beautiful meeting, helpless parting, no eternity, no miracle, only the warmth gradually blurred in memory. Sometimes, if you can't get it, you must learn to give up. This is also a kind of free and easy beauty. In fact, deep love is not in the heart, but melts in each other's lives?
Selected Works of Aesthetic Love Prose: Don't spend summer flowers gorgeous, walk into the quiet beauty of autumn leaves.
Author: Tea enhances fragrance
Don't spend gorgeous summer flowers, walk into the quiet beauty of autumn leaves, turn your thoughts into Ye Er in the quiet night, and Ye Er flutters with the wind.
? Inscription of Tea Flavoring (QQ 157390639)
Ye Er fluttered in the wind and clouds fluttered in the sky. Listening to autumn, listening to autumn rain, listening to autumn wind, listening to Qiu Si, listening to Qiu Si, it slightly forms a gurgling stream, with a hint of reverie, inadvertently scattered in a pool of autumn water, fiddling with autumn leaves, flapping a curtain of thoughts, your beautiful image gently floats on the water, beautiful and quiet.
In fact, every season has its own beauty. Say goodbye to the warm and splendid summer and usher in the quiet and restrained autumn. Autumn, like a woman who has gone through the hustle and bustle of the world of mortals, is gradually mature and quiet, no longer noisy and ignorant of the world, but has learned to be calm and calm, even the courtyard is a little lonely, no longer a pear flower with rain.
How deep the yard is, how deep the autumn rain and autumn wind are. Several chrysanthemums in the yard are pushed away, and white and yellow flowers are swaying in the wind, forming a beautiful landscape with pink roses. The sky washed by autumn rain is indigo, and the wind is blowing with a gentle breeze. A pulse of mood is fleeting, and the wind gently shakes into the embrace of autumn, sitting quietly in the yard, smiling at your pear nest and listening to the bluebird singing love songs on the branches.
Emotional autumn, quiet beauty, ease, so poetic. Ye Er fluttered in the wind, clouds fluttered in the sky, the picture was warm as water, a long-lost breath, a life, a season, or a warm-hearted person suddenly met, and those feelings slowly settled down, becoming a permanent and gentle beauty of life.
That year, a love that consumed everything was lush. That year, I wore a blue cloth and white shirt, and you were clean. We met in the midsummer evening, and the cool breeze blew, blowing countless shyness and shyness. You are so close and so far away that I dare not look into your eyes and you dare not hold my hand. However, time has banished you and me together, making us drift from place to place in the vacant time, which has become a comfort to each other.