You weigh your love like gold,
accurately sold
to the decimal point —
a luxury, sold for green,
but I forget I’m a queen.
I can afford it, but I won’t.

I’m sure when spring rolls in and
you meet the girl of your dreams
who strums your sternum
like a guitar —
you’ll forget the price tag
or the weight of your love
and give her your heart
for free.

But that won’t be me,
so, I’ll keep my money.