Whispers of the soul

As children, we plucked petals from flowers,

whispering, "He loves me, he loves me not."

Now, we drown in our thoughts,

questioning if he loves me or not,

as the flowers wilted.

He makes me feel lovable,

worthy of love,

contrary to what others said.

His kind words reel me in,

like a fisher reeling in a fish.

He has my heart, holds it tight,

yet he doesn't know he's holding it.

He's unaware of the effect he has on me,

the way he makes me feel,

how my eyes light up

whenever I talk to him or see him.

When he's around, my problems wither,

for a few hours, it's pure bliss,

nothing could go wrong.

But when he's gone,

everything does go wrong,

my thoughts a jumbled mess,

a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle,

unassembled.

I try to make sense of it all,

but my mind goes amuck,

thinking of impossible scenarios.

My heart belongs to him,

and he doesn't even know it.

I'm afraid he'll see the real me,

a mess he wouldn't want in his life,

so I'm careful with my words,

afraid of saying too much.

I fear losing my heart to him,

for I'm the only one here

with my heart on my sleeve,

waiting for him to say yes,

to give it a try,

or anything really.

But my brain knows it won't happen,

yet my heart refuses to accept it.

So I push it down for the sake of our friendship,

hoping he won't leave.

It has to be okay,

right?