短篇愛情故事英文

　　嘗過愛情味道的人，但願從來不曾戀愛過。原來愛情不過是一道七彩的虹，美麗卻適宜在遠處，只能觀賞，而且短暫，一忽兒它就蹤影不見了。你尋覓又尋覓，它始終不肯再度露面。下面是小編為您整理的，希望對你有所幫助!

　　篇一：She left her shoes

　　she took everything else--her toothbrush, her clothes, and even that stupid little silver vase on the table we kept candy in. Just dumped it out on the table and took the vase. The tiny apartment we shared seemed different stuff was gone. It wasn't much really, although now the room seemed like a jigsaw puzzle with a few pieces missing incomplete. The closet seemed empty too most of it was her stuff anyway. But there they were at the bottom, piled up like they usually were ,every single one of them,Why did she leave her shoes?She could have forgotten them, I knew too well that she took great pride in her shoe collection, but there they still were, right down to her favorite pair of sandals.They were black with a design etched into the wide band that stretched across the top of them,the soles scuffed and worn,a delicate imprint of where her toes rested was visible in the soft fabric.

　　It seemed funny to me she walkcd out of my life without her shoes. Is that irony or am thinking of something else? In a way I was glad they were still here, she would have to come back for them, right?I mean how could she go on with the rest of her life without her shoes? But she's not coming back,I know she isn't. she would rather walk barefoot over glass than have to see me all of her shoes! All of them. every sneaker, boot and sandal, every high heel and clog, every flip-Ilop.What do I do? Do I leave them here or bag them up and throw thorn in the a trash? Do I look at them every morning when I get dressed and wonder by she left them? She knew it" she knows what she"s doing. I can't throw them out for fear she may return for them today. I can't be rid of myself of her completely with all her shoes still in my life, can't dispose of them or the person that walked in them.

　　Her shoes left deep foot print up my heart, and I can't sweep it away.All I can do is stare at them and wonder, stare at their laces and straps, their buttons and tread.They still connect me to her though, in come distant bizarre way.I can't remember the good times we had,which pair she was wearing at that moment in time.They are hers and no one else's.She wore down the heels,and she scuffed their sides, it's her fragile footpaint imbedded on the insole .I sit on the floor next to them and wonder how many places had she gone while wearing,these shots, how many miles had she walked in them, which pair was she wearing when she decided to leave me? I pick up a high heel she often wore and absently smell it.I don't think it is disgusting.It's just the last tangible link I have to her, the last bit of reality I have of her. She left her shoes; she took everything else except her shots.They remain at the bottom of my closet, a shrine to her memory.

　　篇二：It was two years ago when I first met him.

　　At that time, he was a roamer who had、 just come to this city, single and had no thought of settling down. I still remember that he used to describe himself as a lost child drifting in the world, seeking things to till his heart, he could never stop, for he would lose his way, then die in silence.

　　It was like a crystal, though, our relationship, beautiful. pure but fragile. Sometimes we just like old friends. talking and laughing. But I knew that, there is always a separate yvorld in which only he exists, and he never let other people in.

　　"True relationship takes work," I told myself time and time again. I could wait, wait for the day he let me in, and wait for the day we became true friends. For a while, I believed that, until his leaving.

　　It was hidden and with an awful finality`'.Till then did I know that, I was a little part of his time on earth, a little understanding of his physical being. I was a little piece of him. Maybe to his drought-like heart, our relationship was just a drizzle, useless and disappointing.

　　Time slid away from fingers while I was trying to get on with my lifc. I locked our memories in a box and put it at the bottom of my heart, pretending nobody had turned up in my life,nothing had happened.

　　His appearing again split my peace again. Vivid memories came flooding back from the box deep in my heart. For a while, I was vaguely conscious, it was just like there hadn't being any distance, any separation between us, and his one-year left was just an alter of eyes.

　　When he told me that he had found the harbor for his wondering heart, I felt like drowning in a lake, cold and breathless. He kept talking but I could not hear a word. Perhaps nobody could be immune to `' such felony.

　　That night, he and his true love haunted my dream. They were flying far across the fields and woods,, leaving me far behind. I ran and ran, but could not catch up. I was the one left behind.

　　At that time, I realized, even perfect love couldn't promise you forever, sometimes, forever means to let him go.

　　篇三：Love is infinite love

　　Freda bright say,only in opera do people die of love.”It's true. You really can't love somebody to death. I've known people to die from no love. but I've never known anyone to be loved to death. We just can't lom one another enough.

　　A heart-warming story tells of a woman who finally decided to ask her boss for a raise in salary. All day she felt nervous and apprehensive .Later in the afternoon she summoned-the courage to approach her employer. To her delight, the boss agreed to a raise.

　　The woman arrived home that evening to a beautiful table set with their best dishes.Candles were softly glowing. Her husband had come home early and prepared a festive meal. She wondered if someone from the office had tipped him off'', or... did he just somehow know that she would not get turned down?

　　She found him in the kitchen and told him the good news. They embraced and kissed, then sat down to the wonderful meal. Next to her plate the woman found a beautifully lettered note. It read: "Congratulations, darling! I knew you'd get the raise! These things will tell you how much I love you."

　　Following the supper, her husband went into the kitchen to clean up. She noticed that a second card had fallen from his pocket. Picking it off the floor, she read: "Don't worry about not getting the raise! You deserve it anyway! These things will tell you how much I love you."

　　Someone has said that the measure of love is when you love without measure. What this man feels for his spouse is total acceptance and love, whether she succeeds or fails. His love celebrates her victories and soothes her wounds. He stands with her, no matter what life throws in their direction.

　　Upon receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, Mother Teresa said: "What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family." And love your friends. Love them without measure.