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