Siphon.

This is yours as much as it is mine.
I have given half of what I have to each unworthy person.
I don't get back what I have given, that is yours to keep.
You each have a piece of my life and if I don't move you have the whole of it.
Recycled into the next capacity under which it fits into yours.
Stalker, ex-lover, or merely a funny joke to tell at parties.
And so I move and change to divert the newest siphon of my heart.
But I'm afraid not fast enough or far enough to keep a new one from attaching.
What I have left to have and give is such a diluted substance,
I'm not sure anyone else would want it.
I don't know how to make any more.
And besides I am old now and who would want me anyway?