I spent days, weeks, months, years
picking the petals off
a flower.
Loves me, loves me not.
I could lie. Say
I never do that anymore,
but I want
to land on a yes.
But it's been 18 years.
And my **** living room floor isn't just
strewn with ******* petals.
No. It's
filled to the ******* rim and it's
spilling out the ******* door.
****. ****. ****.
**** it all!!!!
I don't want to do this anymore.
I'm scared and I'm shaking and I think
I'm trying
not not not
to have a
panic attack.
Please.
What is so wrong with me
that I
never land on a

loves me.