He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Your Heart

Do you feel the anxiety?

The burning?

The cold ferocity?

The breathlessness?

The aching heart pangs?

The sleepless nights full of you?

I could never imagine you thinking or feeling these things I do;

for I do not see myself as anyone else sees me.

I see myself as average:

Average hair,

average height,

average weight,

average smile,

average everything;

and yet you look upon me as though you've stumbled upon a rose in a garden of daises.

Your eyes light up with excitement and fervor as I approach you, as though I hold your very heart in my hands?

Tell me, my dearest,

do I?

I must know, you see,

for I would not wish to flick my wrist and throw it away, or squeeze my hand and crush it to dust;

rather I would hold it, caress it, and keep it in my warm embrace as I know you would mine.