Mr. Daisy

He loves me?
He loves me…
Not.
 
Young children
Pull petals from
My daisies.
 
Squealing in
The garden of
My passion…
 
We all
Scatter like
Feathers
 
Grounded by
Journeys own
Deception.
 
Not if he
Loves me, he
Loves me, not:
 
But do you feel
Something for me…
Mr. Daisy?
 
So, naked, so
Much certain
Uncertainty-
 
That love is
Also, I love
Him not…