Tearful love a different kind of happiness and sadness beautiful article

Tearful love a different kind of happiness and sadness beautiful article

Tearful love a different kind of happiness and sadness beautiful article, there may be a lot of people in the other half with their own time there are more or less problems, there are a lot of curious places, so if you encounter contradictions when we coax their own babies, very soon there will be no problem, the following share tearful love a different kind of happiness and sadness beautiful article

afternoon laziness, find a suitable music, wake up my hidden inspiration, pen with the heart, ink with the song turn. About love is my pen most of the meal, messy, tangled, warm, there are lingering and warm, however, more is sad, that implanted in the bone marrow, once and for all burned into the heart of the raging flames.

Like the melodious sound of the song, but also like the inside of the ups and downs, has been walking in the dream of the woman, the actual desire is a can rely on the harbor, but the strength of the shoulders of all the trials and tribulations. "Weakness" in my dictionary no longer appear, not I am brave, is the pain of falling no one care.

Displacement of a lot of imagination, how to put a heartbreaking cold, in how many of these afternoons written as a flavor of happiness! This is a challenge to me, I am also silly like this not have a stretch, let yourself intoxicated in the pain and happiness in the entanglement.

May, a warm month, without realizing it, he was like sunshine into this curtain. A wisp of warmth, gently into the heart, I forget the pain, forget the pain, his magic let everything change! The days of acquaintance, has always been his pampering indulgence of my capriciousness, but suffered a change in itself, he has been broken walls, I was foolish to expect him again and again the warmth, did not understand that with him is a cruel chastisement. Life may be every journey is a station, met is the edge, but a demand is not real love, that is selfish like, love may be in the broader understanding between. Know how to draw the essence of their own use, which is the cornerstone of progress, if the road of feelings has been smooth, that is not the norm in life! People should have their own personalities, and then take the strengths and weaknesses, no one was born a genius, genius is always tirelessly burying the head to learn the fool.

Since it has been chosen, I will quietly pay all the way along, he is a piece of the sky above my head, I am destined to be a piece of his sky blue! Will cherish, will not let the pain has been devouring my bravery, that corner has been tearing people, whether the face of the sun! A ray of light, a warm, three feet azure, I walked in your sky.

Tearful love, with the texture of pain also has a stoic residual, but willing, if there is a deficit in a previous life, then I am this time to pay back one by one. Tears are not necessarily bitter surfaced, sometimes a love of love, a warm speechless, is the best pavement of happiness. The journey of life in a hurry, dear, we put the steps slowly, sealed memories, become the past, the beautiful future has been spread. After a thousand sails, we did not have those sensational burning, love is to withstand the plain passing of the years! Dependent on you will slowly become my habit, those lonely and arrogant slowly turned into a know how to release. A call, the heart contract in your heart and mine floated into the softness of the petals.

I am a fool in front of the feelings, as you say 'little fool', a fool, my heart side are sweet!

Tearful love of a different kind of happiness sentimental beauty 2

Sentimental beauty excerpts (1):

Floating life is like a dream, ultimately, the dream breaks into the air

Time is like quicksand, we always want to hold on to every grain of sand, but found that every minute and every second will be from our fingertips to flow away, maybe I hope that the time, such as the first see.

A sigh of relief, a sad, winter over spring end sometimes, the love of grief wrong where to find? I'm dealing with a cup of wine at the moment, maybe I drink it all, I will be able to forget the past. Memories whitened miss, the day is a familiar street spliced lens, I missed your lens, and met my lens, just come and go lens, only your, is what I can not forget.

I have heard that even if you leave, there are memories that belong to yourself. Sometimes, memories, but is the best weapon to sting yourself. Maybe you are a world, you give yourself a boundary, and then you can't get out of it.

So deliberately 'to disguise, but still can not deceive their own heart. The first thing you need to do is to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world, and then you'll be able to get your hands on some of the most popular products and services in the world. Please remember: a smile is just an expression, nothing to do with happiness!

Sentimental beauty excerpts (2):

Is it a miss or a fault

A dream has become a fall, sadness on the head, since it is a lot of love tears empty flow. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get a good deal on this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to get a good deal on this. --Title

Winter, the dusk of the afterglow through the window refraction, fell in the corner of my vision, and through the years of distance, stopping in the dust of my memories, as if, that lonely a kind of obsession. In the residual autumn rain, flying flowers, only for the piece of tenderness, covering the footprints of the drunken dream, holding an umbrella, open the folds of the heart, that is, turn around and look back at the mottled, is it a miss or a fault

Life as a painting, flowers fall like poetry, in the embellishments of a piece of paper in the paper, behind the gorgeousness is lonely, why do you need to be attached to a heavy weight to decorate the wind and rain of the thoughts. Bland, into a splash of red, the death, again look off the dome of the sky, only poetic romance, able to walk through the text of the lingering, falling a drop of pain, the original, you are all my past, and I am who's the perfect past

Precipitation of the years, holding up the rotation of the tree flourish, will be in the life of the clarity of the promise of the bridge, the mountains and wild seclusion, hand in hand, the heart reflecting the end of the earth and the sky. And now, there is no if, that is just a colorful encounter, far away, just like the script lines, will be how lost, in the edge of the siege, who, would rather towards twilight, singing emotional sad song, to fill Que red dust butterfly love, so with their own lonely to the silent!

Clock, ticking with the agitation of the mind, just want to watch in your dust, rhyme dye condensation, paddled into a fireworks, pointing to the riverbed of the falling water, Pingju confided in the way back, but the old face. In the cloudy sky of the past, searching, is the farthest distance, ultimately difficult to put down, but helpless to put down, just like this, abide by a drop in the cold rain, fell in the hair of the youth, to themselves, but also to the at hand at the end of the world care!

Waiting, shaking down the flow of years of wind and snow, permeated with inexplicable regrets, in the stranded season of wind and dust, who is constantly calling. That year, just the heart of the siege, yearning, longing, to the future of their own, who understand that the flowers fall red, praying, walking through the youth, but can not cut off a world of attachment!

The arrival of the night, hidden dusk, the flicker of lights, changing the early winter of the phantom, deduction of the crowd but can not find a kind of drunkenness, able to soothe that corner of the sigh. Occasionally three or five flakes of snow, reflecting the neon hues, disrupted the rush, disturbed the wandering, the sound of the street store, fluttering with reckless singing, originally, this is a kind of lost, can not remember, who is in this life, who is in the next life. There is no miss, where the fault, just, inadvertently rubbing shoulders once, accompanied by a small pathetic winter snow alone!

The depths of time, the inn of the red dust, meet you, that is not an accident, a ride in the landscape, a picture, into the beautiful scenery of this life. Seasons in the mingling, branded with thoughts, not willing to understand, and how to know the heartache, shed tears, shouting your name, in the years of dreams, that will be how to wither. The old road to the west wind, horseback riding the end of the world, together with the shadow of the moon fall, drunken tears, broken heart!

Just reluctant, but helpless, in a corner of the night sentimental loneliness, but still tied to come, not for who is staying, more not quiet locks sad eyebrows, just as the cold moon in the west window, listen to the piano and other good people, dance to get a clear shadow, a place of lovesickness, a room full of despair, a goodbye, a sad!

Gently put down the pen in hand, for no reason a goodbye, is the life, but also the red dust, who can say clear. You, the flowers fall to the end of the world, I, the four seas, just for this journey of confession, just for this life and tomorrow!