Thinks & Inks

Daisy Demise

I’m picking daisies

“He likes me…”

“He likes me not…”

The daisy suffering

In my anger to know

As my fingers pick apart

Its beauty,

Dropping them into

The darkness

That is

My heart

I hate

All the speculating

Not knowing for sure

What he thinks

Or believes

Anymore

I can’t stand being with him

And not knowing

The age old question

That is always my demise

If I mean anything to him

Or if

I’m just another

Wasted sunrise

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