She plucked his fingernails
            gently out,

                 he loves me,

                                  He
                             loves
                        me

not..

The pollen of love filtered from
            everyone discarded..

Pulses raised with
each one
           harvested.

The dander was sodden,
               but still she needed to
know..

Does he love me, does he not...

And after every petal was gently
                                        discarded,

You thought that the only way
                 to no was to cut the stem..

Looking to his surroundings,
            a jar of nails...

How many had been planted here
                                               before..

Like a daffodil popping off,
                        she was out cold..

He'd been like a seed floating in the air,
       what some would catch to place a wish.
                          his was to land upon her jaw.

                                              He fell,
the roots that bonded him fallen.
            And he ran out in to the wilderness.

Floating in and out of consciousness,
                                       but he was free..