Poetry and you

Sincerity is the most rare thing in the world, and love is even more rare than sincerity. The love that most people yearn for is not romantic, rich or vigorous, but a life that is indifferent to each other and plain as water. What do you mean by taking care of each other is to live by each other's breath. Two people's lives are in perfect harmony, and no one can live and die alone. What do you mean plain as water? I just live, as if forgetting that I still love you. I can't be more familiar with what I know. I love you so much that I forgot about it in the Jianghu, but the whole Jianghu is just your breath and spit.

Just like a poet yearning for ordinary love, living in a harmonious town with his lover, leaning against the window, watching the hazy sunset, listening to the long town bells, smelling the flowers of tulips in the flower beds under the window, lying on the sofa and taking a nap at will, waking up, you are still there. What a comfortable, warm and safe life. I think this kind of life will never be tired, and nothing is happier than this ordinary love. If I die in the next moment, there is no regret.

I also like a girl, dreaming of a happy life in the future. On this ordinary day, in this warm home, we lie comfortably, without unnecessary communication, pretending to be caring and considerate, pretending to smile, just like one person, but more at ease and comfortable than one person. The expression on our faces is naturally calm, even indifferent. Our heartbeat and breathing become the same. Our souls seem to be integrated, quietly watching the flames swaying in the stove and listening to the light sound of firewood burning gently. We are sleepy, not sad or happy, and the years are quiet and good, accompanied by gentleness for a lifetime.

Russian Ivanovna.

I want to live in a small town with you,

Drink endless dusk together.

And the constant ringing of bells.

In a hotel in a small town—

The old clock made a faint sound.

Like ticking time.

At dusk, occasionally someone is in a room on the top floor.

Play the flute at the window. Most tulips are in full bloom in the window.

I don't mind if you don't love me at this time.

There is a ceramic stove in the center of the house.

Each tile is painted with a heart, a sailboat and a rose.

Through our only window,

It's all Melissa Zhou. It's snowing. You lie in my favorite position:

Lazy. Indifference Even a little cold.

You scratched two or three times before you lit the match.

The flame of the cigarette in your hand slowly turns from strong to weak,

The end of the smoke trembled. Cigarette butts are short and gray.

-Even you don't bother to bounce off the ashes.

The cigarette was shaken off and thrown into the stove.