Bittersweet

I don't know which is worse:
The fact that you moved on so quickly,
Or the fact that I still see your face in every crowd.

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I think there's something to be said about
the book of poetry you gave me:
how I turn to its sad contents when you left, me alone with it.

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I was a Fool, in love,
Plunging headfirst into definite demise,
I was a Fool, in love,
But oh, I was a happy Fool.