he loves me
he loves me not
he loves me
he loves me not
he loves me
he loves me not

I walked outside yesterday
And it's almost springtime.
Right on the cusp of it.
The air is sharp
In the morning.
Shiver,
Wrap your arms around you
And pretend that makes you
So much warmer.
Look both ways as you cross the street,
And realize
That you don't know anything.

Are we scared of our shadow?
Or is spring coming early this year?
does he love me?
does he not?

I pick the petals
From the flower
That was so convinced
It was spring,
That it wasn't scared
Of its shadow,
Or if it was,
It decided to be brave.

I picked the petals off
One by one
From a brave little flower

Am I scared of my shadow?
Or will I decide
That it's spring,
Time to grow and bloom?

And I drop the petals
Into the crisp breeze,
Into the car exhaust,
Into...
Where?
Springtime?

he loves me...
what?