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This diary entry is written by ‹totodile›. ( View all entries )
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Picking PetalsCategory: poetry~
Saturday, 19 April 2014
05:11:01 PM (GMT)
A compliment, a kindness, lifting me up So soft, so sweet, a friend Or something more? He loves me. Is it love after all? A compliment, a kindness, but for a price A moment, or two, an experience Closeness, love No Lust He loves me not. The intentions were not so true A compliment, a kindness, a blindfold My young heart fell fast, thinking I am yearned for! Needed! He loves me! And he does! An item, a compliment, a kindness, for himself A protest is not spoken, as I am taken under the spell Daily gifts and happiness, with dessert and cares Cares, meant only to tighten the grasp He loves me not. But does he? If I tell him, will it be too much? Our age, our lives, our distance Yes, he loves me not. But if I leave him a gift Something he desires in the pit of his being I will be all he wants He loves me. It is not love, but lust! Feelings bound by moments That I am too young tell apart It is nothing, pointless, a phase He loves me not. Alas! A compliment! A kindness! A sprinkle in the friendship that is so much more He loves me, he must! I am a fool, it is my young mind, He loves me not! He is lonely, I am one of the few he cares of He loves me! Driven by lust! Lies! Isn't there a difference in my head? He loves me not! But he does, he must, he loves me! He loves me not! He loves me! He loves me not! He - oh The petals The voices in my head The flower Has gone.... ---- I shouldn't tell him. All these feelings I have, they are nothing but my young brain. I cannot yet differentiate between love and lust, that must be it! My foolishness has blinded me of the line parting love and lust, and smeared it all over friendship. We are but friends. But our moments, are they not special? We used to have them frequently, daily, strengthening our bond. However, it has seemed as if they are not as much. He has stopped begging, pleading for my kind innocence to be perverted for his - no - for our pleasure. He was not the only one receiving such happiness. His stopping, is only changes in life. He has less time, less school, more work. We have stopped talking daily, and every minute it breaks my heart. Will he answer? Is he home? He does not care enough to check his mail constantly for me, so he must not love me. It is only lust. Lust we share, lust I yearn for more and more, but it is not only lust! I want more than to feel him in our heat, but to feel him sleeping! I want to enjoy holding him as we settle, the rise and fall of his chest. I want a romantic moment. He just wants me for the pleasure I provide him. But does he? I've been told by a friend that we argue like an old married couple, and while he laughs I actually picture it. Us casually talking and bickering in a home we own together. I feel it. I want more. Even if it IS lust, if it IS just my all too young mind, my heart is still a heart, and it can still be broken. It would be satisfying to know. To ask him, straightforward, what he would say if I told him. How he would react. Would he dismiss it? Not take me seriously? I am, after all, a just cute young girl to him. But could I be more? Could he think of me as more? I doubt it... I should not get my hopes up But still they have already gone sky high All I ask Is for a simple answer Would he, could he Does he love me Does he love me not...

Phantom says:   19 April 2014   506430  
you overlooked one petal :p

this was nice how each thought/stanza was broken and reflecting the
activity described. (as a side thought i wonder how widespread petal
picking and reflecting upon a lover is across cultures..something to

very sweet
‹totodile› says :   19 April 2014   414816  
Oh you :p

Yeah that would be an interesting thing to find out...

thank you 


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