He loves me, he loves me not.

One petal falls. I keep questioning, ripping him apart, probing every last possible explanation for what seems like unconditional love.

He loves me, he loves me not.

There goes another petal. It hurts him, I can see that much. But I'm so scared that he's going to turn around and stab me in the back. It's happened before. What will stop it from happening again?

He loves me.

And I'm done. Done staring at his soul with a magnifying glass. No more petals left to pull. Nothing underneath...he loves me.

I'm scared.