I want to know your past.

I want to know every little detail that makes you who you are.

I want to know what makes you cry,

What makes you laugh,

What makes you angry.

I want to know about the first time you ever got in a fist fight.

I want to know about the first girl you ever loved.

I want to know about the first time you were shoved in the back of a police car and hauled off to sit in a cold jail cell until you got rescued.

I want to know about the first time you ever watched your father cry.

I want to know about the first time you locked yourself in your room, scared and afraid because your parents were screaming louder than they've ever screamed before.

I don't want to know your past so I can judge you and then run like hell like the last three girls you opened up to.

I want to know your past because your past is what makes the present you,

And quite frankly, I am absolutely in love with the present you.