When I miss you, you are like smoke between my fingers: lingering and fluttering, like a dream, so that I can't touch a god of thought. You mean you've gone far? Are those stories yesterday? However, those warm and romantic happy scenes are vivid in my mind, just like a slide show, always floating in front of my eyes. I know very well that when I miss you, like a dream last night, I can always remember very few scenes.
When I miss you, you are the cloud that quietly came to me and quietly left. You don't even have time to wave your sleeves, just like that, changing with the wind, flying all over the sky, clouds rolling and clouds relaxing. However, did the wind really take away a cloud? Is this wind really blowing from your side? Maybe the wind knows that at this moment, I am thinking of you.
When I miss you, a breeze blows by me. At this time, I can't help asking: Has the wind said goodbye to the clouds in the western sky? However, I know that the wind after Cambridge passed me with a boat full of splendor belonging to Xu Zhimo. I know very well that I have no rainbow-like dream to precipitate, because I have no dream at all; I can't play the flute with parting notes because I don't know the staff at all.
When I miss you, this moment seems to be back to the first moment, and memory is like a flood that opens the floodgates, coming at me head on. At this moment, who saw me cry? At this moment, who saw me secretly sad? No one can tell. Because I locked myself in a sealed memory. I know that all loneliness and helplessness are my own business; Even if there is bitterness, it is enough for me to drink alone.
When I miss you, is life really like a farewell? If this is the end of life, why not see it at first sight? A ticket stub swept through the depths of my memory: I know there is joy and there is a prayer. Otherwise, my thoughts will not return from the end to the beginning. I know that the scars on your body, no matter how warm the sunshine I give you, can't heal and melt after all. Because there are no regrets in life.
When I miss you, I can always think of the scene where we met. Leave again and again; Sublimation of love again and again; Emotional jumps again and again; After turning around, why always turn into a tearful but helpless ending? What's the use of silent comfort? Inexplicable heartbreak, like a broken mirror, how to repair it? How can we get back together? Is it useful to cry like rain? It is useless, because tears are not synonymous with love.
When I miss you, I know my heart is shaking. Tears falling quietly are an obvious symbol of loneliness at this moment. At this moment, I realized that love is such torture and longing. I know, I can't afford those promises. Because all the promises have been made in blowing in the wind. Because of love, there is pain; Because there is pain, I will want to pray better. But I think, if pain is really indispensable, can it be done lighter and lighter?
When I miss you, I know that maybe I have missed the blooming season. When time no longer waits for me, I finally know that what is lost is the locust tree in my heart. Every time I miss you, I think of that plate of scrambled eggs with Sophora japonica. Perhaps this is also a happy aftertaste. Because the aftertaste is like the established pattern of life, it will eventually change from blue hair to white hair.
When I miss you, something deeper than my heart seems to cry like a cuckoo. Rhododendrons all over the mountain, can you take away my brilliant red dust? Life, at this time I really understand: what is the feeling of heartbreak, what is the feeling of heartache. Because I know the two words that make me cry are-loss. Somehow, maybe I also know that when I miss you, it means I have lost everything.
When I miss you, why is the sky always gloomy? Does the sky also understand my depressed mood at the moment? Or can only the gloomy sky relieve my endless loneliness? If so, I am willing to fall into the pain of thinking about you forever and never wake up until the end of my life.
When I miss you, if there is providence, I understand the true meaning of love. Although it is a lush year, it has witnessed the flowers bloom and fall. But fleeting footsteps will never combine the strokes of the word "pain". Love, is there really providence? At this moment, I can't say and I don't know. I only know that at this moment, I am thinking of you.