The Florist

5/16/22

A florist pulls petals from a red rose
She whispers “He loves me. He loves me not.”
Each pull an artifact of her insecurities

She stands, the petals are all gone
She cries” He loves me not.”
That last petal made her choice

She confronts her lover
She yelled “Why don’t you love me?”
He replied “I do, I show it everyday!”

Her lover gave a grimace of doubt
He thought “Is my love true, is there something I didn’t do?”
Her condemnation only gave him guilt

The girl was heartbroken
She exclaimed “I never trusted your love”
The lover hopelessly impugned “Why? When I have only gave you my heart’s honesty”

She walked away feeling liberated
She told herself “ If he loved me why does he not chase me? “
Her wounded soldier lost his will to fight the conditions of their love’s quarrel.

The florist pulls petals from a white chrysanthemum; she sits at her loves wake
Struck with grief She cries “He loved me. He truly loved me.”
Each pull an artifact of her self fulfilled prophecy