If you were a coloring book,
I would be mad,
That after opening the cover,
There's no spaces left for me to color.

If you were water,
I would freeze you,
Immobile,
And gently stroke my fingers across your surface.

If you were wooden,
You'd be the finest sculpture,
That I would burn with every touch in every crease,
And leave ashen.

If you were an egg,
I'd take the utmost care to not drop you,
And the only place I would break your shell,
Is at the bottom where I'd fit perfectly.

If you were a string,
I'd tie you up tightly around me,
So that you could never leave me,
And I could always feel you on my skin.

If you were lava,
I would gladly burn off my flesh,
And I wouldn't hesitate to go inside you,
Because I'm used to feeling you down to my bones.