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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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