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He Loves Me Not

The pungent scent of the flowers nectar goes to my nose

He Loves Me

My fingers graze along the delicate silk pedals

He Loves Me Not

I imagine each pedal as a feather of a dove, white, innocent, pure

He Loves Me

Another pedal drifts through the air swooping in its own path to the ground

He Loves Me Not

With each pedal I lose I become closer to knowing my fortuity

He Loves Me

I hold my breath, my stomach can't decide if its tangled and tied or filled with butterflies

He Loves Me Not

I can’t be oblivious that I have just two pedals left, I remove yet another and whisper

He Loves Me

My fingers hold on to the last dream I have. A tear rolls off my face and onto the pedal. Why did I waste a perfectly good flower when I know…

He Loves Me Not





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