The fleeting time I wrote is a romantic month that you don't understand.

The fleeting time I wrote is a romantic month that you don't understand.

My fleeting time is a romantic month that you don't understand. We all know that time is fleeting and youth is easy to get old. The memory of that year will never come back, so learn to cherish it. Let's read my fleeting time together, which is a romantic month you don't understand. I hope you like it.

You don't understand the fleeting time in my pen: romantic 1, autumn colors fade and flowers fall, and early winter is intoxicating with frost. Cold pen dipped in clear ink, plain paper depicting romantic, who will solve the last autumn, who will continue to write heartbroken; Lonely breeze, Danqing builds a silver city, and Jinse is the most fragrant, but I don't understand, and the wind and the moon are barren.

In early winter, the sky is high and the meaning is cold. I looked at the clouds from a distance, with clear eyes and frown. The ends of the earth, Qian Shan without water, a little disappointed. Words depend on each other, friendship depends on each other, and ink is fleeting. Who are you smiling at?

Clouds gather and disperse, and the affair is in debt. Who do you love and how many days have you been silent? Bing Xin's pride, bright eyes and white teeth, can't be finished. How many stories are mysterious? Time flies on paper, and I know each other in my pen. Have you ever thought about how many thoughts blowing in the wind has? Quietly romantic, lips and teeth gently open, drink a pot of old wine, full of rhyme, drunk singing, drunk singing, and sing yourself drunk.

Drunk tonight, too drunk to speak.

I think that if we meet, know each other and stay together, we can catch up with the pace of time and the company of years, and go through a dull and loving life with you. Helpless, the slender red rope broke with the wind and the origin was destroyed. The story of you and me finally becoming a mirror. Those unspoken words, as well as the tears that remain in my heart now, always erode my heart in the silence of the night.

Time and time again, those memories and lovesickness made me unable to hide my tears, as if I suddenly lost everything and made me miserable. Why do you want to be together, and why do you want to dislike it? Is the oath hanging in the dark like a meteor? Do you say that thousands of days and nights are together because once they are separated, they become worthless in your heart? Even memories have become moans, and even greetings have become sins and injuries.

There is a kind of injury called silence. For you, silence can break other people's hearts and disperse your own memories. There is a kind of pain called silence. For me, silence can accumulate sadness and bury thousands of years of obsession. Finally, I am willing to admit defeat, crouch alone in the depths of the years, draw a clear line with the world, and don't want to continue that fireworks-like love for anyone. Perhaps, this damn silence has just become the other side of my sea, keeping the thoughts between you and me warmly in the Meng Po bowl in the afterlife, by the bridge.

Drunk tonight, drunk to find the mystery.

Sometimes, with the passage of time, those unknown answers will slowly be exposed on the surface of time. But if, at this time, you think you know everything, it's really a big mistake, because more questions will take root with the answers in your heart, because often when you think it's over, the story has just begun.

At first, he said that he likes you because you are kind to him and accompany him every day. He thinks he can take good care of you and care about you. As a result, he later said that you were too clingy, and he didn't even have any space and time for himself, clamoring to break up with you. In order not to break up, you have to promise him and give him more freedom.

You thought he would be kind to you and live a good life, but after a while, he said you were too willful and lazy and clamored to break up. You have to cede land for compensation and sign those unequal treaties. You must be very happy this time.

But who knows, after a while, he disappeared. When the story is written here, there will inevitably be too much speculation. But for me, who is too greedy and who is too weak is not my focus. The point is that they don't have that kind of affection, so they are doomed to be unable to change the ending.

Don't think that you can sit back and relax by solving each other's doubts. Those who love you but force you to change the so-called advantages in his mouth are often because he is tired of you. I'm tired of you, not clingy, willful and lazy as you say ... so no matter how you change, you are still you, he is still him, and finally you come to the end of being abandoned.

Day after day, you drift away, night after night, I am intoxicated and speechless. Who knows that those thoughts that lean on my heart will always be the answer I can't ask? I just know that for a moment, your story and mine will be quietly scattered in my heart, and even your beautiful face will become a picture that is no longer amazing.

Drunk tonight, drunk laughter dies with the wind.

In the world of mortals, the fleeting time blows late, and the water spinach is also carefully irrigated; The world is cold, and once you think about meditation, you have no desire to accompany you. Whether it's injury or pain, get drunk and have fun. You turn around, you can't see my tears, you can't see my unwillingness and helplessness. You leave a back, you can't feel the coldness of my body. Every cell longs for your departure. You are out of my sight, and I can't feel my death. Every breath breaks my heart.

I thought it was all over and you left, so I have no more wonderful reasons. But the world is fascinating and there are too many secrets. With the deduction of time, the scene continues to start over for our lives. You see, the fallen leaves in autumn have already been buried by winter snow, but next spring, they will still be fluttering in the wind and swaying on the branches. Flowers will always bloom, dreams will always wake up, birth and death. Everything, with the passage of youth, my love for you has already become distant and wonderful unconsciously. Read my article. Isn't this what I agreed to do?

Since I am drunk for you, I will put my sorrow and parting after drunkenness in a quiet corner of my heart, and put those beautiful memories and romantic feelings in my heart. Maybe when we meet again next year, you and I can say hello again. Or maybe, on a quiet night next year, I will be alone, invite the moonlight into my arms, start with the breeze, and then open our romantic debt, and I can feel the innocence of youth again. Now, let everything change in blowing in the wind.

When you wake up drunk, everything will be clearly visible, but I also know that you will be drunk when you wake up, because the wind has blown away the story and will blow away an unknown friendship in an unintentional corner. At that time, I may know how to protect myself better, and I may love someone in a better way. And you, you will no longer understand that I am full of notes and carved with time.

"Day and night only alternate without exchange, so we can't imagine each other's world. We still insist on waiting in the same place, standing in two worlds with each other. You will never understand my sadness, like the darkness of day and night, like the ever-burning sun, and the surplus and deficiency of the moon ... "A song" Darkness of Day and Night "sang the thoughts in my heart.

A person you don't love, no matter how good and great, will only surprise our young years in the end, but will not be gentle with our long-term years. A person who doesn't know himself, no matter how much he pays, no matter how much he loves, finally just gives us a simple and hurtful answer-passerby. What is missing? what is love ? Not to her, or to people who have nothing to do with right or wrong, hold high the declaration of love, but to attract each other's attention with an understanding, but to care about each other's whole with a sincerity.

Autumn colors fade and flowers fall, and whoever is drunk in early winter is frost. Cold pen dipped in clear ink, plain paper depicting romantic, who will solve the last autumn, who will continue to write heartbroken; Lonely breeze, Danqing builds a silver city, and Jinse is the most fragrant, but I don't understand, and the wind and the moon are barren. As everyone knows, leaning against the world of words, I am writing sentences and chapters back and forth alone, but it is the deepest eyes and farthest thoughts I have ever had for you.

Later, I gradually realized that all kinds of experiences in life are actually just to fill the hole in time and the incompleteness of years. And mine, the fleeting time when the pen tip is beating, is a romantic month that you can no longer understand.

The fleeting time I wrote is two years today in Yue Feng. You don't understand. I was caught in a light rain in Karamay early in the morning and went out too early. I brought back snacks, fruits and cooked wine for a day to celebrate my drunkenness. I opened the window and it was still raining outside. Sitting by the window, looking at the piles of things on the messy coffee table, my heart is rippling.

Busy days, I will forget my special days, unspeakable sadness and loneliness, sipping Niulanshan in one hand and holding a few peanuts in the other, mixed with meaningless melancholy, unable to speak, no one to talk to, telling grievances. Open your notebook and write about yourself who is sad in spring and injured in autumn.

The rain hit the banana bit by bit, and the empty street fell until dawn.

The moon hangs on the eaves and whispers, feeling down and out.

I heard that today is also Mother's Good Friday. I also know that I will miss myself at home. At three o'clock in the afternoon, my relatives and friends sent me a congratulatory message. Only dare to reply at the job site: take care. ...

When I returned to the dormitory from work, I didn't know whether it was the stimulation of finger smoke or I always felt a tingling in my heart. Tears welled up in my eyes and immersed myself in it. ...

Sometimes, I think of some people for no reason. On his (her) festive day, I pretended to be a poet and a big congratulatory message, but who will remember you today?

When the sprinkler passed the hotel door that morning, I ran down the third floor like a fool and shouted at the back of the sprinkler that was slowly leaving. Thank you!

Because there was a song in the sprinkler at that time; Best wishes for a happy birthday! ……

I have never deliberately exaggerated my days. Forget it! No big deal. As the days go by, I am looking forward to the passing of my youth, and I am a little sad. I have always been so quiet and quiet, and now I am still in ruins. I don't want to savor it and remember it slowly.

How many unforgettable things, endless, endless. In the year of no doubt, how many stories will be precipitated, holding a pen, full of rhyme, singing helplessly, singing drunk, and finally singing drunk.

Many sediments are like a pool of autumn water, and the release of the fence of thought will stir up the sludge at the bottom of the pool. The water is no longer clear, people are no longer peaceful, and the heart is no longer quiet.

If the heart doesn't move, what does wind energy do? If you don't get hurt, the years will be fine. Listening to Liu Xiao's radio station at midnight touches the heartstrings and soothes the soul.

Life has never experienced confusion, such as an altar of old wine; Like a poem sung for thousands of years; Like a classic song that crushes the liver and intestines. This has nothing to do with academic qualifications, wealth or fame. The world understands, the world sees through, and the secular world looks down. ...

The story of flowers, Fang Hua Shuo Shuo; Flowers fall silently, and the pain is sour. Life is like a passing white horse, and everything will grow old without a trace. Return to the dust, return to the earth, the noisy world, can not escape the refined world, calm and calm.

When birds are singing and flowers are blooming, the beautiful scenery of Chun Qing suddenly collides with the desolate Gobi Desert and the endless desert, and the extreme impact of visual angle and the gap of mind go to two extremes.

The darkness of the night erodes the soul in the heart. Every time I come, I challenge my nerves. It is a temper forging, and homesickness is heartbreaking. That year, before I could pack my bags and go home, there was bad news at home. My father died, and I was at a loss, hiding my face and crying. It was also that year that I felt that the snow in Karamay in the twelfth month was particularly cold and heartless. ...

Today, several years later, I still want to sit still and be alone, just like that day in Karamay, intoxicated tonight, intoxicated in a quiet dream to find excellent poems; Drunk tonight, drunk and laughing, blowing the fleeting traces in the wind; Drunk tonight, drunk singing plum blossom tricks, or the same old song, silent ending ...

The origin of good dreams is the easiest to wake up, and family ties have been idle since ancient times. Life is a secret, a chess game, which is deduced with the passage of time. The sun and the moon are constantly changing, and life continues day by day. It is a dream and will eventually wake up. To live is to die. As time goes by, I will store the memories of these years in the space of knowing the sea, and the empty shell will be buried deep in the Gobi full of yellow sand.

The world of mortals blows late. Who wants to walk around like duckweed? The world is cold, once you meditate, you will have no companion, and you will be poor and sad. Flowers are similar every year, and they travel all over Qian Shan. A moment's rest, getting drunk, a lot of shortcomings, mixed with wine, drinking helplessly and unwilling. Let's drink to the past. The skirt was wet and I drank the wine.

There are too many reasons to understand others, but you can't understand yourself. For example, I don't understand the dark and eternal burning sun during the day, and I don't understand the surplus and deficiency of the moon. I insert bookmarks for the years that have turned over, so that I can sometimes remember and forget everything in my heart. I am good to myself, too. Things don't force, everything follows fate.

Wine is the catalyst. When people are quiet, they worry too much, think a lot and remember a lot. In retrospect, forgiving others is also letting go of yourself. In fact, it is also a kind of cultivation. You can talk to yourself when you are depressed, and you will be carefree with a wave of your hand. After they are released, their hearts will be much clearer.