Flower Petals.

HE LOVES ME. He, as in my boyfriend: My soul mate, my best friend, my forever. Love, as in the most unexplainable, incredible feeling on this earth. Being in love is like floating all the time. You're numb to the whole world except for this overwhelming joy that makes your heart flutter. HE LOVES ME. It was love before sight. I fell for the notes that were anonymously left for me, the slow breaths on the phone when he was too nervous to talk, and the lips that unleashed fireworks. His appearance only added to the more than true fact that he was perfect for me. HE LOVES ME. All the opened car doors, the pushed in chairs, the romantic slow dances, the good nights, and his help through the bad nights. Every moment in his arms I could feel the rhythm of his heart and know that nothing could harm me. The sense of love surreounded me. HE LOVES ME. The nights when the world crashed. When all I needed was to cry, I had a shoulder to lean on. He'd stay with me until everything was perfect again. Never a fight or dispute; only understanding and compassion. My own living diary just a phone call away. HE LOVES ME. The summers we spent together. My routine to stroll downtown on the way to join him. Same shops and people, until something caught my eye. The figure I fell for. The smile that leaves me breathless. The hair that falls perfectly in place. The eyes I could stare into for a lifetime. And the hands that were holding someone else's . . . HE LOVES ME NOT.