Close my eyes and I will think of you

In my dreams, I often find myself actually a cloud floating in the air, looking down leisurely, crossing the mountains and rivers and going above the valley. Or just like the cliff, the abyss under my feet, I can only look far away. There is a red wild flower on the opposite hill, standing on the fog of last night, kowtow to me frequently, I knew that she had been quietly sentimental in the dark twilight, and no amount of shyness could hide in the rising dawn. I often close my eyes and think about the sudden wind when the rain comes, the acute roar in the thick clouds and the helpless tolerance. I usually wake up at two or three in the morning after midnight, and then there is a smoke with red hearts in the place of Laicheng, between the index finger and the middle finger, gently blowing the soul in a circle. I suddenly thought of the seven grams of soul, in fact, the soul is very light, light to a smoke, a goodbye, a break up, a burst of tears after lovelorn. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone in the dark night as thick as a quilt. The moon in the sky was hazy and sprinkled on the land of silver. From a distance, I could see the red fire flashing between my fingers, I can’t hear my humble and stubborn talk. At that time, my soul was gone. While drifting to the world, I turned into a cloud, floating in the air, crossing the mountains and rivers, and crossing the valley. Whenever confused or lonely, I close my eyes gently. I know that you are not my only one. We are like blisters rising at the bottom of the Cup, they just touched each other and disappeared. I forgot your shadow in the children of the century, and sometimes I forgot myself in the busy time. Like I felt the disappearance of the soul in my dream, then I sat on the windowsill near the street, wrapped my bare mind with cloth curtain, poured the nicotine into my body over and over again, and then pulled it out, I think if the smoke from the lungs can also bring out some troubles in my heart, maybe I will be a little better. However, I looked at the night light after midnight, and there was no pedestrian passing by. The yellow light at the crossroads kept flashing, and the frost and fog in autumn and winter also filled with waves, covering the road to and from, and my sight. When I close my eyes, you are no longer there. I still stop at the corner and miss the direction you came over and over again.

Zan (prose editor: prose online) Phoenix Mountain Spring Tour

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