Too much, too many

There was never enough of you to go around;

But I dished you out into small servings

For the girls around the table.

I told them how happy I’ve been

Full and giddy,

With delight.

Sharp and bleeding,

Like I pressed the rose too hard

When you handed it to me.

You’re worried I’ll spread you too thin

Like jam on a piece of toast.

It’s me who’s been spread too thin.

Too much, too many,

You think too highly of me.