Plucking daisies, I count the leaves;
Please let him love me! Please! I beg to myself,
as if the flowers have the answers!
But I always manipulate the answers! 

I keep on lying to myself, maybe he’ll come by tomorrow…
When he isn’t so busy with work? Or with live across the salty waters?
When he isn’t in the middle of a family feud cause of siblings?
Maybe it’s just my paranoia? 

“He loves me, he loves me not. ...loves me, loves me not... He loves me!”
What sweet wonderful lies… 
And the most beautiful of all… 
He’s words of love to me. 

Why does he wait?
Why wait for permission?
Are we still children bound to our parents’ law or to societies thoughts?
To the consequences of our brothers and sisters? 

“He loves me!” 
I keep telling my heart the lie;
A lie it so easily believes
And trusts my mind to know better…