What if I was a flower,
And you, a bee.
For you to have some sweet,
I would have got stung rather happily.
What if I was a pen,
And you, the ink flowing through me.
My tip, as it stroke on the paper,
would have mirrored your beauty,
like no one, ever, could be.
What if I were you,
And, perhaps, you were me.
Would you have been heartless?
Or, perhaps, would I have been?