Free-Verse, Love, and Clay

Description is in the title.

Dear love,

You are mine.
I sculpted you from a mottled tub of clay.
I scooped you out of the plastic
And laid you on the table.
I wrung you out, and molded you,
I kneaded and primed your beautiful elements.
I made you blend.
I broke your spirit and then repaired your essence.
I cleaned you, and you softened under my touch.
I caressed you into being, and
I gave you shape with my bare hands.
I rounded you.
I straightened out your edges.
I smiled proudly when you improved, and
I worked tirelessly when you fell apart.
I made sure you became whole again.
I neatly repaired your rougher surfaces when I could.
I embraced your sense of character when I could not.
I covered your cracks in water and smoothed them.
I used my fingertips to indent, to give you my mark.
I believed in the quality of your natural self.
I waited for you, when you were in the fire,
I watched so you would not burn, or fall,
Or suffer any damage at all.
I held you carefully once you were cooled and ready.
I gazed at you in my arms, examining you carefully,
Letting my eyes travel across your every detail.
I found myself completely pleased with just the sight of you.
Then, I had you sit across from me,
And I wrote this declaration of love,
In all its finality.
You are mine.