I like the soft pink, flapping the trees behind the waves and the wind. The beauty is only five centimeters per second, a girl of 13 years old. Kissing each other's dry and hot lips, the love under the cherry blossoms is just a sweet death before separation, just staring at the cherry cake. Teenagers don't know why, but they have more impulse to cry.
Only empty dreams can calm a heart. So, I approached the poem, and I saw a poem, like a cherry blossom with fragrance and dew on the window sill in the morning. I see my heart is like a smile, so warm and so quiet, and clouds meet. Can't stay forever, but leave, why I try to show you. Away from the hustle and bustle of that small inch of pure land, on the cliff in spring, my glass-transparent castle.
Forgive me, Yaya, I don't want to talk or wake up. Just because I didn't want to see it, a gust of wind took my petals away. I don't want to see the wind twist my heart and leave tears. I'm just a kingfisher afraid of noise, hiding in thorns and hurting my wings. Sooner or later, the sky will take me away, leaving a big blank, waiting for your eyes to fill her.
Your pure white represents love, madly in love to the highest temperature. Entering without hesitation, the world is called marriage besieged city. Your ancestral home is not Japan, but the highest peak in the Himalayas. Withered in the most brilliant time, another pursuit of beauty.