For life to leave a monologue, every week this time, I long for you to leave a time for yourself, parting from the reality of the turmoil, women fans only read poems for you.

"I hate you."
Or "I miss you so."
It's going to be a long time.
You'll know.

─〈 Cave, Zheng Zhehan, "the Happiest Day"

〉〉 in the name of the poem Hey, did you hear me?

This winter has a lot of texture, like your body temperature. I'm fit to wear a sweater coming and coming to your tip and maybe sneezing too.

When you play with cats, you laugh like a sea.

I do not breathe when I wash my socks. Think of you, do not comb, do not want to start time.

I have long hair, there are missing corners of the dream, no longer invisible, they and winter a kind of desire.

--excerpt Wu "The destruction of your laughter is like the sea", "exchanging the rib of a loved one"

Make all the words you want to say simple words, but I love you.

〉〉 in the name of poetry love, the farther away you are, the closer you are to yourself .

The leaves of the couple trees are far and trivial in the wind,
Like a familiar song, gently play in the reception of the unstable radio.

Like, I want to have a common life with you details.
Like the meaning that I know we are just close to the two trees,
But sometimes I want people to think we're the same tree.

Lindayang "Thermostatic baggage"

〉〉 Love in the name of the poem, say Softly

I owe that.
I don't love a lot of people.

Other people love them more.
Let me be relieved.

--Simpo Silk card, "Letter of thanks"

There is always a debt and regret in love, dear old lovers, it is so nice to meet you. You make Me feel loved, learn how to love, and realize how we put up a shield when people are not brave, or in a self-sufficient life. Also , to experience love, experience loss, feel the unprecedented joy and sadness, It is really, the best gift.

〉〉 to former lovers in the name of poetry

All the endings have been written.
And all the tears are on their journey
But suddenly forgot what kind of a start
In the old summer that never comes back
No matter how I go about it
Young you just like the shadow of the Clouds
And your smiling face is very light and light
Gradually disappearing into the haze of sunset
Then opened the yellow title page
Fate binds it to a very clumsy
With tears I read and read
But I have to admit

Youth is a book too hasty

--XI Murong, youth

Youth is, I have not too late to give you the wish, you go.

〉〉 in the name of poetry Youth, Love's re-engraved appearance