O
To S.Changbin,
Winter came, but there was no warm hugs from you.
Summer came, but there was no cold hands to hold mine.
Spring came, but there was no butterfly kisses to pamper me.
Autumn came, and it was then that I realized that I came into my fall.
Like the withering trees, your love withered.
It's a year without you.
Love, H.
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