Thoughts begin to bloom

I love him, this it true.
But then my heart whispers, “why is he not with you?”
My brain then, begins to sigh,
for such a thing could make me cry
 But maybe he's thinking the same,
for which of us is really to blame?
I'll sit awake in my lonely room,
as worrisome thoughts begin to bloom
 So here I am, staring blankly at the wall,
 just waiting for a letter, a text, or call