You don't run out of words. But you can run out of new words. This piece came to be in part because I thought, "I'm still feeling what I felt when I wrote Scar Tissue. I can just point to that. Because I don't have anything to add," and that led to this poem. I wrote so many words on the pain a decade ago, elsewhere. So many tens of thousands of words.

Beauty, sure. Ice and sharp glass are also beautiful. But you can run out of love, I fear.