I want to make you forget why you hate the things you do. 
Whether it’s from past memories with ghosts long gone. 
Or if it’s because your dad loved it so and you couldn’t bare it after his hand met your cheek. 
I want to make you forget about why you cry alone at night. 
Or be there to cry with you.
Maybe ruffle your hair, tap your nose, and kiss your lips. 
I want to make you forget about why you don’t like the color yellow. 
How it’s the color of the dress she wore when she broke your heart. 
The same yellow your mother loved when she left this world. 
I want to make you mine. 
Mine like the body I possess. 
Mine like the heart that beats in my chest. 
I want that body, and that heart, to be yours.