As the pile continues to
grow
and you continue to
obsess
over what the last petal will
conclude,
you steadily grow
frantic
because there are only a few
petals
left.
As you're lips have just whispered the words,
"She loves me not,"
you almost count the remaining petals
and then you decide
that maybe,
just
maybe,
you should stop plucking the petals...
because you realize that the fates might decide that
she
loves
you
not.
But you don't stop,
instead, you continue to
tear off the last petals-
each fallen petal represents a piece of your
broken
heart.
You take a deep breath and
close
your
eyes
not wanting to see how many petals are left.
Then your broken heart breaks one last time
as you drop the bare flower stem
and whisper the words,
"She loves me not."