No more sorry for first love. No, she couldn’t even pretend to care. No more sorry for second love. No, only when it was convenient. No more sorry on a piece of paper. No, we both signed our names. No more sorry during the heat of passion. No, she didn’t matter, but I mattered less. No more sorry for third love. No pretend, no inconvenience, no contract, no meaninglessness. No more sorry until I regret again.
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