I miss your arms, your beathing, your heart beats. I remember, my head rested on your chest and all I was thinking about is if somewhere in those thumps if somehwere in those distinctive beats, if what I am made up of crept in the dephs of your hearts song. I dont know when I developed this habit of hoarding details. I can outline your tattoos by memory and find the material of your window curtian if something in me desired to get that creepy. All this emotional madness tangled to, you… whoever that is.
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