Petal Games

It comes down to the game of the petals.

To he loves me, he loves me not.

I sit and pluck them one by one until I reach the ugly bare stem.

Silence all around weeps for the nature I’ve destroyed.

All for a stupid little game.

All for something that I know is only nonsense.

No rhyme or reason behind it.

Other than foolish hope.

That’s not to say all hope is foolish, as it certainly isn’t.

But this hope is.

How do I know?

Because the flower said he loves me, but I barely cracked a smile.

I didn’t laugh with nervous excitement.

A sense of relief didn’t rush through me.

And I believe in love, really, I do.

I’m skeptical about a lot things, but that’s not one them.

But these stupid petals lie.

They told me he loves me, but I refuse to believe it.

Ridiculous of me, right?


Because he’s the one who gave me these flowers, just three days ago.

And I found out about her tonight.

He probably doesn’t love her.

But he doesn’t love me either, you stupid, stupid flower.

I didn’t pluck your petals to be told another lie.

I just couldn’t bare to see you anymore.

So petal games galore until all you flowers die.


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