New Experiences, New People, New problems

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Jacob wrote page after page of a love poem, but it wasn't addressed to her. Rather, it was just an expression of his own feelings, and it wasn't easy to tell. Long stanzas combined with shorter ones until his very poem came out to ten pages front and back, two columns on each page. They ended with this:
And yet in my darkest night,

She cast the last draught over me,
If only she could still see,
How much I still love thee.


If only the tides of love,
Would let me rest at night,
For as long as she still teaches me,
Death shall still haunt thee.


Jacob sat up and stapled them together, then laid them to the side and started to, again, take more notes, depression back inside his heart.
 
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