In a field, she's plucking dasies,
"He wants me, yes, he craves me.
I'm sure he's thinking of me,
but will he ever love me?"
She plucks each petal, watches them fall,
debating whether to call.
It was so magical that night,
he'd held her close- he'd held her tight.
As the day had become light,
he'd told her it felt right.
Now she was laying, feeling lazy,
anticipation made her crazy.
He said he'd call her very soon,
but now the sun became the moon.
It had been two days, no more, no less,
she hadn't heard a word yet.
Still she was awaiting,
beneath the darkening sky, day latening.
And still- her mind was feeling hazy,
he'd said to her "oh you amaze me,
It won't be 'sex', no not with us,
tonight we will be making love,"
Fools in love are just too trusting,
she'd thought he loved her- not just lusting,
but now it seemed, at second glance,
it was a lie to remove her pants.
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Poem / Poetry
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