Talking about the fairy spirit of girls

Before I close my eyes for the last time

I want to say I love you.

I can't bear to give up in your arms.

I have a thousand words in my heart that I haven't told you.

I tried not to close my eyes.

We can't meet again.

I can't be with you anymore, but don't forget.

You promised me that you would be fine.

I walked first and went to a long place.

I can't watch the sunrise with you anymore. I can't wait until dawn.

It is not easy to erase all the memories.

Life and death are decided by heaven. Don't be too sad.

Before I close my eyes for the last time

I want to say I love you.

I can't bear to give up in your arms.

I have a thousand words in my heart that I haven't told you.

I tried not to close my eyes.

We can't meet again.

I can't be with you anymore, but don't forget.

You promised me that you would be fine.

Before I close my eyes for the last time

I want to say I love you.

I can't bear to give up in your arms.

I have a thousand words in my heart that I haven't told you.

I tried not to close my eyes.

We can't meet again.

I can't be with you anymore, but don't forget.

You promised me that you would be fine.

I love you forever. .

This is a song. If you write an article, you can use it! ! ! ! ! ! 1

The girl is about sixteen or seventeen years old, with a gentle face and a delicate body. I saw her pouting and leering at herself. Her skin is as white as fresh ling, and a thin mole on her mouth makes her more charming.

Next to her stood a girl in a pale crimson gauze shirt, also sixteen or seventeen years old. She smiled at him with a mischievous look. The girl has an oval face, smart eyes and charming charm.

. . . . . . . . . . .

He looked up and saw a white jade-like stone hand lift the curtain and walk into a girl. The girl is wearing a white dress like a veil. She seems to be in a fog. It seems that she is about sixteen or seventeen years old. Except for her black hair, her whole body is white, and her face is beautiful and unique.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

She is seventeen years old, tall, graceful, light and dignified. My hair is as black as paint, my skin is as jade, my eyes are full of expectation, and my smile reveals an indescribable charm. She is like a peony flower in bud, beautiful but not demon, gorgeous but not vulgar, charming and clinking.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

So-and-so turned around, the sun shone faintly from behind her, her black hair was slightly raised, and her face and smile seemed to be in love. He suddenly lowered his head and dared not look again.

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