It's like writing a story in a honeysuckle field. There are no waves of wheat and no bright sunshine in May. The tree of joy has withered and the wine of prisoner's heart has been sprinkled, but we are still on the road of no return.
This life is ruined - cherish you
The journey is far away, and all I see is the night. Only my delicate face in your eyes is shining, just like the way you saw me in my eyes when we first met.
The slight curve of your eyebrows bloomed in my heart, the corners of your mouth were raised, and I drowned in your shallow dimples. You are rare among hundreds of people. You are too dense and too blurred. It doesn't matter how far or near you are. I can't calm down. In the fog of your heart, I am always passing by. In this way, I am walking in the fog.
Later I discovered that I had no expectations for you. I could outline your broad palms, sharp outlines, and deep voice with just a frown. You don't need to hint or come to me. You just live in my infinite imagination and become my sustenance.