He loves me?
He loves me…
Not.
Young children
Pull petals from
Daisies.
Squealing in
The garden of
Passion…
As petals
Scatter like
Feathers
From flights
Fallen and forgotten.
Exhausted,
Grounded by
Journeys own
Deception.
Not if he
Loves me, he
Loves me, not:
But do you feel
Nothing for me…
Mr. Daisy?
So, naked, so
Much certain
Uncertainty-
That love is
Also, I love
Him not!
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