he loves me only as a sister—
frail petals fall, their whispers
fractured, bending beneath
the weight of a maybe, a
no.
he loves me (only as a friend)
the echo shifts, a restless
shadow, lingering in the hollow
of what could never bloom.
he loves me (but)—
attraction's embers fade,
a pale ghost of something
once alive, now gray; he
loves (me) not enough
to stay.
he loves me (yet cannot
see) beneath the mirror's skin,
the ugliness I carry,
the cracks I cradle within.
he loves me (only a memory),
childhood’s games replay
in sepia tones,
their laughter a distant
ache in the marrow of my bones.
he loves me (how I bow
to his words)—sharp shards
of blame and fire, I
surrender, a captive
to his bruising choir.
he loves me (he loves me not)
the daisy wilts in silent
confession,
a question unraveling
into dust.