I want to read the books that he reads,
and like the books that he likes.
I want to lose myself in every song he's ever dedicated to me,
and sing sweet words to him through my mind.
I want to stay up all night and watch movies with him curled up on his couch,
or bed, or folding chair, whatever have he.
I want him to know he's the one I want, too.
And when he calls me by my name, and tells me I'm beautiful,
I want it to be real. I want his confide in me to be everlasting.
I want his next Tuesday, and every other Tuesday after that.
I want him to stop being so nice to me.
I want him to stop telling me the words I've so long waited to hear.
I want him to teach me about Pokemon.
I want to teach him every french word I've learned to date.
I want to go into the future, of twenty-three and twenty-five.
I want to be seven-teen again.
He makes me want.
He makes me want.
To want him so.