Thinking of you tonight

There is a kind of thinking that can read the darkness of the night;

There is an encounter, not on the road, but in the heart;

There is a kind of sentiment called you and I in each other's hearts.

--Title

The rainy night, quiet and deep. The sound of dripping rain outside the window mixed with the chirping of autumn cicadas made the calm night seem quiet and noisy. This is a night for nostalgia, miss, let thoughts fly; thoughts, let miss flood ......

Tonight, scoop up a handful of loneliness, gently pick up a sour, rubbing the world given the turnover, the clumsy tip of the pen traveled on a piece of paper paper, circle, pen, acacia into thin.

Your silence on the other end of the phone, like a cup of lonely wine, rich, mellow. I'm afraid I can't withstand the mellow fragrance of the wine, shallow taste drunk, more afraid, a drunken dream life. Since ancient times, speechless is the deepest love, I know.

The shallow fall, slightly cool. I'm not sure if you're a good person, but I'm a good person, and I'm a good person, and I'm a good person. At that moment, all the language seems so pale and powerless, all the time is still at that moment, I am silent to sob.

A gust of autumn wind through the gaps in the trees caressing the cheeks, warm, once again scratching eyes, the passage of time, the dark turn of the year, a plain heart has long been put down all the inner can not afford to ripples, however, a sentence, "Walking and reading are you, you have occupied my heart," has long made me tearful, and willing to put down all the reserve.

I would like to call you a "darling", but I'm afraid that this sentence will carry too much thought and reluctance, and even more afraid of the emotional floodgates of a thousand miles, and will eventually embark on a road of no return.

Steep a cup of tea in the hand, look at the rising leaves in the water dance, dense aroma curls up, quickly diffuse, filling every corner of the room, inexplicable melancholy swept the whole body, loneliness surrounded by again.

You said that I am if you are not, so you have a lot of sadness, but I have been hesitant, do not dare to face, happiness is so complete, I do not know what to do.

Some destiny, destined to be long and short, come as dew, go as electricity, can not hold the end is a flash of fame! I'm not sure if you're going to be able to get a good look at this. Our character is so similar that when I see you, I see another myself, our experience is very similar!

Perhaps, the years are shallow, no one can hold a long time; perhaps, all tastes are tasted, so that will not be negative this only one life.

But what kind of feelings do I have to live up to your love for me? And what qualifications do I have to accept that you've got to be honest with me?

Autumn is a season of love, love like you!

Autumn is a romantic season, romantic as you!

Autumn water **** the long sky a color, the sunset in the lone鹜 fly together!

Tonight, who will allow me to drink up the miss of this space?

Tonight, who accompanied me to carefully outline and describe your figure?

There is a kind of thought that can read the blackness of the night;

There is a kind of encounter, not on the road, but in the heart;

There is a kind of sentiment, called you and I put each other in the heart.

The tangled rainy night, unrequited tenderness. Today I choose to forget in other people's stories, and tomorrow who is standing in the sleepless night, write each other into the poetry line?

I never expect to see how far away forever is, and I don't want to ask whether the sea will wither and the stone will rot, and I don't want to study where the next stop of happiness actually is.

The rain is mercurial, mercurial as the Tang poetry recitation of the words out of the white boy; the night is lingering, like a Queqing words in the hand, the hand of the charming girl ...

Tonight, let me once again will be thinking of banishment, want you ... want you ...

The night of the rain, like the Tang poetry recitation of the words out of the white boy; night is lingering, like a Queqing words in the hands of the hand of the charming girl ...

The night of the rain, like the Queqing words in the hands of the hand of the charming girl.