the wind was breezing through my
hair, making all the time i
spent on it meaningless.
i wish i could say i was
walking without a care but
i care about you too much.
love reduced me to childishness;
i picked up flowers from the
ground, reducing them to
nothingness.
with a movement from my hand,
i picked the daisy apart,
reciting over and over again:
“he loves me, he loves me not.”
i got to the last petal,
but i refused to say the
last word of the sentence.
i coughed, i coughed, i coughed
but no words would come out of
my mouth. it was as if i
had phlegm stuck in my throat, that
was more stubborn than i was.
i threw away what was left
of the dead flower and i
managed to choke out a “not.”
(via ahab-and-i)
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