Mine

When I say I want you, I don't mean
I want you to be mine. No, you are yours,
Delightfully, and all that I have seen
And loved has been just that: my heart adores
The sight of you just being you, your own,
So happy in yourself. Why would I choose
To take that joy, so wonderfully grown,
And make it wither? Why should I abuse
Your happiness by trying to impose
Some ownership by me on you? I know
What I desire, and where it arose,
And both are you. Should you be mine? Hell no.
I know exactly what I wish you'd be:
Completely yours, but also yours with me.