Recommend some poems about loneliness (not love)

A touch of crimson lips is a lonely boudoir, and an inch of sorrow touches the heart. Cherish the spring to go, when to rush the rain. Leaning against the post is just not in the mood! Where are people? Even it's getting dark, and the way home is broken. Don't make a cup of deep amber in Huanxisha, it will melt before you get drunk, and the evening wind will come. The brain is fragrant, the dream is broken, the cold golden bun is loose, and the time and space are red to candlelight. The voice is searching slowly, cold and desolate, sad and miserable. It's the hardest to stop breathing when it's warm and cold. Three glasses and two glasses of wine, how can you beat him? It's late in the wind. Guo Yan is very sad, but this is an old acquaintance. Yellow flowers are piled all over the floor. Who can pick it now? Looking out the window, how can a person be dark? Indus is raining in Mao Mao, dripping at dusk. This time, what a sad sentence! Good things are close to the wind, flowers fall deep, and there is red snow outside the curtain. I remember for a long time that after begonia blooms, it is the season of hurting spring. The wine column sings jade and honors the sky, and the blue cylinder is dark and bright. The soul dream is unbearable, miserable, and even more screaming. The spring breeze in Wuling has exhausted the fragrance of dust, and I am tired of combing my hair at night. Things are people, not everything, and tears flow first. It is said that Shuangxi Spring is still good, and it is also planned to make canoes. I'm afraid the boat won't move. I'm worried. A piece of plum, red lotus root, fragrant residual jade autumn. Gently untie Luo Shang and go to Lan alone. Who sent the brocade book? The word goose returns, and the moon is full of the west building. Flowers bloom and fall, and flowing water gurgles. One kind of lovesickness, two places of leisure. There is no way to eliminate this situation, only frown and mind. Worship with Qiu Guang, turn around and feel sad, and explore Jin Yingzhi's way of Chongyang. Put on rough clothes and drink unfiltered wine. Every autumn wind and autumn brings cool autumn. The courtyard at dusk, the feeling of sadness, and the hangover after waking up make the sadness more intense. How can you stand this long night, when the moon shines on this empty bed? Listening to the distant sound of changing lanes, the long and sharp crickets, and the long-tune sound, I feel that time has passed too slowly. Man Fang Ting Pavilion hides spring, idle windows sell the sun, and the painting hall is infinitely deep. The seal is burnt out, and the shadow falls on the curtain hook. It is better to plant Jiang Mei by hand, so why go upstairs in the water? No one is here, lonely as he Xun is in Yangzhou. Never, like rhyme, embarrassing rain, unbearable wind. Whose flute blows out deep sadness? If you don't hate the fragrance, you can't leave the canal to sweep the trace. It's hard to say, the window is bright and the moon is light, and it's still romantic. I prefer Li Qingzhao's ci, and I chose a few.