Looking for sad and beautiful prose fragments, small pieces of sad prose

The first rays of sunshine in the early spring sprinkled all over my face, and those long-silenced pasts all poured into my heart, destroying my castle that had been indifferent for a long time, and turning into small pieces of sorrow.

Early spring is amorous, but amorous and sad.

Standing persistently in the rain alley of the Tang and Song dynasties, weaving thoughts with exquisite and transparent words. I just hope that when you pass by like a shock, my words can touch the slight coolness of your fingertips. The oil-paper umbrella you are holding is still filled with the fragrance of cloves, just like your fragrance.

It's just that the years have passed, and how much wind and rain have eroded the face, but I can't wait for you to glance at the amorous gaze. Now, it is a drizzle and a slanting wind, blowing slightly cold. It's just a rain elf, do you know that my thousand-year-old tears have long been in the bottom of my heart, flooding into a wave of oceans.

My soul swims in this sea of love, and I just hope that you will stare silently on the water side, smiling and rippling.

The early spring is delicate, and sorrow is buried behind the delicateness.

Linger among the flowers all over the mountains, watch the butterflies dance their colorful wings, and both frolic among the stamens. A long solo journey, at the end of which is the longing drunk by the sunset, lying slightly drunk. In early spring, it seems to be a candy wrapped in joy, and the sugar coating is also mixed with a little bitterness and astringency and desolation.

The wind gently sent a wisp of flowers, but I smelled your name in the fragrance of flowers. There is a slight feeling in my heart'The pain came up. Is it because I remember the years of light and shadow that we spent together?

Or is it because of the flying swallows, which reminds me of the delicate touch of you standing quietly in the falling flowers?

The early spring is gentle, and the sorrows are counted gently.

In the night sky of early spring, there is no longer a crowd of stars. I like to stare at the sky at night, even if it's just dark sometimes. The quiet night, like a huge curtain, shrouds the clear moonlight and the time that belongs to youth.

Sometimes, the moon would sneak up, and only a few scattered dust stars would accompany her. No loneliness, just some sadness. I muttered stubbornly.

It's just that when a few sad songs escape from the bottom of my heart, I feel that this gentle night actually has boundless blocking sorrow. Like, when I miss you, I feel boundless melancholy. I also thought about begging for a red thread at the old age, and from then on bound the love of three lives.

It was just a meteor flashing by, cutting through the silence of the night and my illusions. My devout Shooting Star brought me the letterhead that had been written long ago: If you are tired of wandering, come back, my heart will always be your harbor ......

In the early spring, I stood by the clouds, letting the wind blow the turbulent year. The clouds were swirling, and there were a few entanglements flashing in my eyes. On the bank of Sansheng Stone, you walked away silently, without a trace of nostalgia. Do you know that the self-forcing smile sent you away, and the tears have flowed into the ...... of Lethe

Now, it is full of brocade again, weaving thoughts. It's just that you are really ruthless and never return, leaving me alone to count the sorrows and piece together the past into heartbreaking poems?

This spring, you didn't come back ......