It must not be like this, to know and try so hard not to hurt.
It should not be like this, to know and hurt so hard.
It should not be like this, to not know, then to know and yet hurt, hurt, hurt.
This is not how stories should end: that special taste, that smooth sensation of the purest truth spreading on the tongue; quickly rushing from behind to smother this sweetness, acridity.
Bitter, bitter chocolate.
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