I just realized that I was your page turner. You had owned me for years but then you finished it for four days and forgot it all then left me among other old-story books.
I'm imagining building a not really big yet cozy and very comfortable house where I'm surrounded by love and affection. It's designed to save me from any kind of broken heart. The roof is made of your messy hair and the room where I can take a rest is made of your arms. It's your hug.
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