Sad prose: Watching infatuatedly, but how can we be separated from you forever?

Perhaps, this watch is the accumulation of day after day, like the accumulation of dust, hidden deep in the sleeves of the lovesick person. This longing is the eternal breath.

The summer flowers outside the window are still gorgeous, but my heart is withering like autumn leaves and scattered all over the ground. The longing is so unreserved and so poignant. It makes people worried, but also so intoxicating.

I am looking for your figure under the setting sun like blood, letting the lingering tenderness drift and wander in the wind and rain of longing. Unexpectedly, a ray of loneliness dyed the fallen flowers red and wet the makeup. The years have eroded the pale eyebrows, and longing always follows them. The affection between the fingers spreads endlessly, the love in the palms is dense in the heart, and a yearning for lovesickness arises in the memory.

However, such deep longing cannot wait for the consummation to come.

The fragrance of my heart is embers, this longing is pain, but I just cover it up with ease, suppressing the sadness, but secretly weeping. But so close and so far away is that there is nowhere to go, so we can only bury the pain of lovesickness in our hearts and wait for the next spring to sprout.

On a clear autumn night, the rain cleared the curtains, so I had to lean against the window and sigh. The old people left, leaving only the sad tones, the fallen flowers in front of the door, thinking about people after seeing things, and staying up all night.

The moon filled the treetops, and the breeze blew through. From the cold air, one or two cicadas occasionally chirped, so tearing that people will never forget it. In a trance, I always seem to see the shadow of my previous life, dressed in a Luo shirt, a green lamp, and a pen dipped in ink fragrance. The opportunity of the world of mortals instantly intoxicated the river of lovesickness in the world.

The autumn wind passes by, and this kind of leisurely sorrow can only be felt at midnight. The beauty is gone and never returns, the birds are chirping and people are silent, and the infatuated heart is waiting for the bright moons to leave the window. Spring has gone and is nowhere to be found.

Looking at the long scroll of this season, the person in the painting, the person in the heart, the cold fragrance floats, the flowers and branches are broken, and the thoughts rush through the heart like a sudden giant.

Perhaps, this watch is the accumulation of day after day, like the accumulation of dust, hidden deep in the sleeves of the lovesick person, this longing is the eternal breath.

It’s just that strong and affectionate feeling, all the water in front of the building, I hope it can flow into the heart of that person. Don't let the green lantern accompany you, and let your infatuated heart stay with you. I don’t know when that far-fetched obsession will arrive. The dream of Jiangnan, which I yearn for day and night, is left in the legend of an oil-paper umbrella. It's like a past event lost in the cracks of time. Suddenly far, suddenly near; suddenly bright, suddenly dark. The continuous misty rain in any scene is soaking wet.

Listening to the cold rain in the south building, looking for human figures, my mood is desolate, and I keep looking back in the autumn wind. Wherever I look, I don't know where the beauty is, the fireworks have faded away, and the warmth of longing has been lost out of thin air, and I can't hide the pain in my heart.

The night rain knocks on the window and the lights are leaking. Life is just a moment. Listening to the falling flowers falling to the ground and gently brushing the steps is just a kind of entertainment.

In this world, smoke and clouds obscure our eyes, and geese cannot fly over. To isolate you, I have to keep watch in pairs. The distance we turn around is like the end of the world, separated by thousands of mountains and rivers.

There is nothing more lonely and sad than this in the world. Perhaps, only the autumn wind outside the window will know the half-life loneliness filled with longing in my heart.

Flowers are falling all over the ground, thousands of miles of desolation. In the dead of night, when people are about to drink, but the cup is in hand, they have already burst into tears and cannot fall asleep. I am afraid that I will wake up from a dream and read this article again, and I will just want to cry without tears. Life is like a solitary lamp, where the light goes out, I hate the moonlight.