you and me. i just…hope it will last. i miss you. i’m afraid i’m going to lose you. we'll move away. and we'll both build our lives. and it will be a slow, imperceptible, inevitable, painful drifting.
all this time i hoped and believed the number of white petals were odd, turns out they’re even. they float through the air d r i f t i n g until they finally touch glassy blue ripples below.
the first brave little petal stays close, but as others join it is just floating out of reach, salt water guiding it gently. farther and farther away, i hardly notice until the last petal falls, and i wake up with a violent start to the sound of my own voice, “loves me not.”
i tremble. i am desperate for one more silky petal. it must have fallen, it was not supposed to end like this. that last word created a nightmare out of my hopeful dream. "not." if only i could erase that word like it erased my hope.
there is nothing to do, but watch the petals drift away so quiet, as if they weren’t leaving a screaming chaos behind them.
my daisy is gone. all i can do is watch the pieces disappear, and try to remember how exquisite it was.
because it was, it used to be.
but there were an odd number of petals.
(and when the daisy's gone
i will send you a bouquet
of forget-me-nots)
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