OmegaZ-7

White petals drifting in the wind; Whispers of those words linger, Striving to find the answer. "He loves me, he loves me not." Not wanting to reach the end, Fearful of the outcome; The words embedded into your heart. "He loves me, he loves me not." Hoping "he loves me" will be last, Fearing the latter; It's only a silly game. "He loves me, he loves me not." And yet, you believe it. Plucking the daisy vigilantly - Desperate for the truth. "He loves me, he loves me not." Arriving at the last petal, Smiling ever so gently; The meaning found. "He loves me."

Your blue eyes meet my own. A glance; no diversity. But I can tell the difference. Yours; Sparkling with happiness; like an undiscovered lake, crystal clear. Mine; Dull with sadness; like a stormy sky, more gray than blue. Even as you look, I fight a battle with myself. I can't live much longer like this; loving, yet unknowing. Please; don't turn your blue eyes away. I want to imagine for a minute longer that you love me.

I remember third grade, the year I went back to school. You were as you are. Blond hair, glasses, and that smile. The year I found out you liked me, and you, I. But it's slipping away. I remember fourth grade, the year of the erasers. You were shy, like you are, and wouldn't sing in the musical. The year we wrote a story together. But I've lost that writing. I remember fifth grade, the year of switching classes. You were impertinent, and still are, though I forgive you. The year we didn't say much to one another. (And I beat you in the Roller Coaster Competition.) But it doesn't matter if I remember.