He loves me,
He loves me not.
The words slip out of my mouth
As the petals slip out of my fingers.
He loves me,
He loves me not.
Those words,
And only those words,
Can make me
Or break me.
He loves me,
He loves me not.
As the soft, red rose petals
Drop to the floor,
Another voice
Interrupts my mental game
Of tug-a-war.
“She loves me,
She loves me not.”
The voice,
So much like my own,
Sad yet still hopeful.
I wanted to comfort
This familiar voice.
To tell it
Everything is going to be ok.
As the voice whispered on,
I realized.
Realized who this voice
Was talking about.
This voice was him.
And he was talking about
Me.