Living on love is fickle existence.
Tears can’t buy back a broken heart.
She doled out her love like pocket change,
Letting strangers turn her over in their hands,
Counting her worth,
Like the year she was printed had anything to do with her value.
She tried to swallow the guilt but the deprivation just didn’t sit well in her stomach,
So like those around her she dismantled her pride,
Put away her self respect,
And got rid of it in the only way she knew how.