I think about our conversations often.
Spending hours analyzing every spoken word in my head for some hidden meaning.
With our writings, I am still so much like a school girl, I have kept them all. I pour over them time and time again.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me.
I know the answer.
In my mind I am again twirling and spinning, love intoxicating me over and over again.
I drink it in heavily, afraid I may never have the opportunity for its taste upon my lips again.
My true feelings are kept buried so far beneath these conversations.
I am forever afraid to take the next step, as are you, both for different reasons.
You, incapable of loving as your own ship sinks further into the ocean of doubt you continue to surround yourself with.
You would love anyone who dared to sail into these rough waters.
I peer deep into the endless bottom to find so many sunken ships, all had fought their way into your never ending whirlpool. Perhaps hopeful to save you from yourself.
My mind goes blank, waiting for the next move.
I see the countless lost souls lying at the bottom, still sending up their tired S.O.S.’s hopeful you will again attempt to save them.
A single tear rolls silently down my cheek as the last petal falls to the ground.