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A woman who smokes

Girls without scars don't fall in love with smoking. A woman who has not been hurt will not fall in love with the wound. I think a woman who has not been hurt will not fall in love with cigarettes. Smoke is the remembrance of those beautiful details. As a melancholy woman, sitting in the melancholy scene in winter, smoking posture always makes her have an indescribable sour. I guess at this moment, the pain in her heart is blooming like a blue rose. Smoke is short, all the enchanting things are short-lived, and beauty is more beautiful because of the short-term. A little hurt, will cry, that is a simple girl, but smoking women will not easily cry, choose a cigarette, also choose a beautiful. Love is a kind of hurt, but women find happiness in it. Smoke is also a kind of harm, but at the same time, smoke makes women forget the harm. If the woman who does not smoke is a touch of rouge, then the woman who smokes is a Datura. The smoke gradually drifts away, what does not disperse is the amorous feelings and fantasies. A cigarette. What does it mean for a woman? Maybe it's the peak of passion, maybe it's lonely, and cigarettes are also lonely. In terms of loneliness, cigarette is a kind of filling of loneliness, filling loneliness with loneliness, and filling emptiness with emptiness. However, every woman who smokes is lonely. Tobacco was a plant at first, then it was picked and died. Now, the body through the red faint fire, come back to life. However, living is going to be ashes. Its first life is green, its second life is burnt yellow, and its third life is dark red. Women are plants at first, but their feelings are hurt and their hearts die. Now, the body through the red faint of another love, and live again. However, separation is eternal, women love and pain, but also fast to despair. Women's first love is green, the second love is brown, the third love is dark red. In fact, the relationship between women and cigarettes is very deep. Light is a cigarette, smoke is lonely, dedicated to all women who smoke. She would remember the way someone who had left smoked, like this, and then put her finger on her lips to imitate it gracefully. She will remember the brand of cigarettes that people who have left like to smoke. In the misty rain, she asks the shop assistant if there is one. She would remember the faint smell of smoke, smell it on the bus, and walk a long way home after sitting over the station. She would carefully store an empty cigarette case in the drawer. Some people and things, just her memory. She would get up late at night, light a cigarette, not smoke, and look at the red cigarette end. Just for nostalgia. Men don't like women smoking. They don't know. There is a story behind every woman who smokes