One's first love is always perfect until one meets one's second love. Night without a morning.
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine. Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings of that mysterious instrument, the soul. Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues. How can you know my sorrow?
The unconquerable pang of despised love. Destitute, desolate, demolished, demons inside.
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