I thought maybe I could become something admirable to him; that while we were together, I could pull out of my rut, drop the silence, or the damsel-in-distress act. I thought I could recreate or reinvent a more perfect me. I could stop lying to seem more deep, stop thinking before I forget to speak, reason my puppy love, and, maybe, fall in love for real this time.
Now, I'm remembering to forget that I really don't want to forget what broke me down; what caused me to build a dam in place of a heart. I want to get over it for you, I want to be happy so you can be happy, because I really don't want to hurt you.
I want to mature in your arms, and fall asleep in your bedroom.
The monsters under my bed are no match for your heart.