Okay. So, the astronaut I’m in love with is a rockstar. He knows everybody and everybody knows him. Though he likes his space; he revels mooning in his little headgear. He landed on my planet in November, last year. I wish he would come out his spacesuit to look at me. I crashed on his skull cap. I’m already creased, so it doesn’t matter. He shook his head and begun looking for the thing that hit him. He didn’t want to waste more of his time so, pulled out a microphone from his pocket and started to sing. I was the other traveler of my planet. As I was applauding, his eyes were aching. He wanted to find me, but couldn’t. Maybe because I’m little and a crumpled paper crane.
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