loves me, loves me not
i picked up
a pretty flower
i saw on the ground;
it reminded me
so much of you
when you smile.
i plucked the first petal,
he loves me,
and thought of
your eye crinkles
when you chuckle
about something silly.
i plucked the second,
he loves me not,
and thought of
the times
you frowned
whenever you were stressed
over something.
i plucked the third,
he loves me,
and thought of
how your eyes sparkle
when you talk about
something you love.
i plucked the fourth,
he loves me not,
and thought of
the times
your eyes weren't
looking at me
but someone else.
i plucked the fifth,
he loves me,
and thought of
how warm
your hands are and
how sweet your lips
would taste.
i plucked the sixth,
he loves me not,
and thought of
how you'll never
see me
the same way
i see you.
i plucked the seventh,
he loves me,
and thought of
all the 'could have's
in both our futures,
lying ahead of us.
i plucked the last,
he loves me not,
and know that
he loves me not.
—even if i planted a whole garden of flowers just for you, i would still get the same answer.
YOU ARE READING
how the universe works
Poetry"how does the universe work?" you asked me. i paused and thought for a moment. after a while, i decided on the truth. "you can never know. even if you learn it through the pain, you'll still be unable to know how the universe truly works. the univer...
