That daisy never really leaves.
What started as a childish game suddenly turns into a sad reality;
I was 6
“Does he love me? Does he love me not…”
I repeated, the petals silently hitting the grass.
Life went on, despite the daisies’ response.
That daisy never really leaves.
What started as a childish game suddenly turned into a sad reality;
I was 16
“Does he love me? Does he love me not…”
I asked myself as I silently stared at my phone, holding back the tears.
Life will go on, despite his choice, I thought to myself.
That daisy never really leaves.
What started as a childish game is my sad reality;
I’m 26
“Do you love me? Or do you not?”
I scream- as he silently stares…
“My life will go on without you; just leave,”
I conclude as I push him out the door.
That daisy never really leaves.
The petals turn into tears, and you’re left in a field of grass, wondering.
Does he love me? Does he love me not?
