I was fifteen years old.
You were sixteen.
You called me every night.
Sometimes we´d have our rough patches
Arguing and fighting,
Hanging up,

Crying and making up the very next day,
As soon we woke up.
Even through all that,
I always asked for a bedtime story,

And my favortie one,
No matter how many times we argued,
No matter how may times we hang up,
Ignore each other for the night,
Or even say harsh words,


¨I Love You¨ will always be my favortie bedtime story you´ve ever told me.