Poem -


They trade love as a currency,
Borrowed from the bank.
It has no value of its own:
There's no loss in the exchange.
But they'll loan but to who'll repay,
And till then they're in their debt.
Each keeps track of their balance,
Of who owes how much to whom.
But my values do not depend
On others to give them meaning.
They exist only in the moment,
Beyond which it can't be stored.
True love has no contract,
To be capitalized upon.
But even were I to coin my love,
None have use for such a foreign coin.

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