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.