Once I was careless
I gave my words away freely
Not knowing I had finite supply
Saying, “I love you”
As much as I could
Over time
The meaning grew
And those supplies began to deplete
As I received so few in return
Having to sort out the fake and meaningless
Like scavenging though scrap and garbage
For something real to hold
Keep for myself.
I hold them close
An unbreakable grip
Unwilling- No
Unable to let them go.
Scared I’ll give too may away
And be left with nothing but ashes.
~Quill
