A Wish Is Tender Air
He loves me is the sound of a flower. Somewhere right now a single truth is staring out at you he loves me not. Throw yourself down in the field he loves me from right here the sky is wider and really does contain everything he really does. This time of year is not so cruel, not knowing is cruel he loves me not. Lying in a field of choices tilting in the sun is cruel. How does a flower know he loves me. Out of an entire field of imposters he loves me not, how does a flower know the truth he loves me. All the field's ears perk up he loves me. How exactly does a wish work. First it must be whispered he loves me! and then once all the petals are off a wind will come he loves me and you will float away and the world he loves me and the birds, all the soft white birds below you.
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