Perhaps it was the year the apricot blossoms fell in a gentle rain, when first love clouded my eyes.
Perhaps it was the year the moonlight was enchanting and the wine sweet and fragrant, when my heart lost its way.
But you watched it all unfold from behind the scenes, and called true love a joke.
Still, I mistook poison for wine, and looked forward to a hopeful tomorrow.
I resent you, I hate you, but I still love you...
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