Picking petals
Pretending to be pleased s
At the growing pile of no's
Not once was a yes given
I lie to myself,
Thinking it was just a coincidence
That every petal I plucked
Was adding to the belief
Of the possible
I went through a whole garden
Of roses and daisies and petunias,
Found the last flower
And was sure that this time,

This time,

The impossible would finally
Become not

One by one the petals
Fell to my feet,
And as each petal was lost
A piece of my heart
Left with it

I was sure this time
That he loved me
.
.
.
Not