I wanna  be your cold stone girl,
The one you not only flirt but order a banana flavor for.

The thought of  you going to other cold stone
without me there frowning upon your choice
could **** me even in the city I love the most.

While we're both chasing our own dreams
I'll always remember you said
"Who knows what will happen,it's a small world"

I wanna be your cold stone girl,
The one that always greets you with a smile.
If you cannot find any cold stone you like
in  Nanjing, don't worry
I'm always up for ice cream in the cold

In February, you are off to my city
I secretly wish you won't for fall any cold stone girls
that giggle at your corny  jokes

I wanna be your cold stone girl,
and keep you company
While we both sail around the world.

10 months sounds like a long period of time,but
it's a small world after all.
When we fulfill that unknown dreams of our own
Meet me again in the cold stone,
for I will always be, your cold stone girl.

This time last year, it was cloudy as today.
But I was about to meet you at Vigilante.

It was not raining, I wore my favorite blouse and my hear was beating so fast.

We took the porch seats, we talked as I got lost in your hazel green eyes.
Yeah we should go to the aquarium you said.

I had matcha and you had latte, you and your orioles cap.

We talked about the future  the presence and the past.

Now we are part of each other's past. You called me a romantic and
yes I am. That's why I'm writing again here.

In April we will go the the ball game and celebrate your birthday.

But when can I show you this poem, in a month or a year?

How many is a few? According to an online forum, it means 2-3 .So here I go
Typhoon hits Taiwan today, so I can’t go anywhere but stay at home all day reading and watching movie (Wild Tales). I think should start reading Swann’s Way again. I was quite interested in Proust in my junior year, cause one time my ex said something I called ‘words of wisdom’ ,which echoed with Proust’s words about sleeping. Maybe they are completely unrelated, but while reading Proust I was unconsciously analyzing the reading in Proust’s way: comparing someone I know in real life with the characters in the book; or maybe I was just putting on airs by showing that I know the (far-fetched) relation between what ******* my ex said and Proust’s words… The wind is getting stronger and stronger now and I am wondering where you are. On this lame typhoon day I’m suffocated by the boredom and humidity. I call it poetic nothingness.

I met a boy
His name starts with B.Finally.
He's small but charming.He speaks French and Dutch.(genius)

First I thought he was boring(cause everybody says that)
But in fact, he's well educated and humorous and endearing.
Though he lives on waffles and beers(and chocolate),
I don't mind, cause he's care-free.

He calls his heart Brussels(weird huh),his head Antwerp and limbs Ghent,Namur and fingers Brugge.
I love every part of him.

I once lived in his head, Antwerp, where he hides all of his best assets.
Full of whimsical,creative and splendid thoughts.
The weather in his head is unpredictable.I still love it

He's sometimes proud and sometimes kind, but mostly very caring
I love him, but now i should leave.

I cannot say I miss you. Because I never do.
From time to time,
you show up in the back of my mind.
I love poems
As I love you.
I know what I wrote are not poems at all.
But who to say that you are real?
I love you but I hate you
In a sense that you are
Untouchable.
As I like cinnamon.
How many times I've dreamed about you
In my dreams, there is only one permanent scene
Your holographic voice penetrating my fragile mind
Your wisdom dissolves into this dull water of my psyche
Like glitters fluttering,falling in a Christmas crystal ball.

The infatuating smile you got
On this spring day.
Capricious like you, London.

I can't stop myself from
Stumbling back to you.

The things unsaid, the poems unread
A thin lipped man like you, full beard suits you the best.

Ah, the beard,dotted with white snow flakes
my hearts skips for this fickle spring day.

Love letter to Rome:You have always been,and always will be my favorite city. Grand and magnificent like you,somehow you like me back.So many people have been desperately trying to approach you but I know they have failed.I selfishly know that I am the one for you even though you have thousands of mistresses who would like to throw their coins away in Fontana di Trevi and wait for hours to get into Vatican city.But I,standing in front of you can say that I am the luckiest,because I feel you through touches,winds,cobblestone roads,the roads to your past,and the people you nurtured.Like you,they took me in generously,they reach out,they communicate with me and embrace me.Rome,you may be everyone's heartthrob,you may be compared with thousands of glamorous cities,but don't forget I am the one who's always here praising you and adoring you for eternity.