How I long,
To be that piece of art you adore.
To find my name,
Written upon the shore.

How I long,
To be a muse of such great beauty.
Compelling others to stand,
And stare would be my duty.

How I long,
To be so divine.
With you caressing me gently,
my body your shrine.

Alas, I am none of these things,
I'll never be able to call you mine.
For you to not call me yours,
Should be such a grievous crime.