What does it say about you that the only love you've truly known, was thrown from your hand like a skipping stone
And what does it say of me that the stone has made its way back to shore, as if it was begging to be thrown once more
Next time you must toss it with such wicked strength, it will have no choice but to lay where you watched as it sank
And though all stones may eventually return to shore, the stones that return are still smaller than before