"He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest; My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song. I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood, For nothing now can ever come to any good."
用户评论
小樱angela
2024-10-06 12:08
葡萄树
2024-10-05 02:23
小啊毛
2024-10-05 07:44
黑色萨拉丁
2024-10-05 12:33
素游流深溢
2024-10-06 02:41