He loves me, he loves me not

Some girls pick off flower petals
And chant a silly poem
To see if the dying daisy
Knows whether she will be alone

I don't need a daisy
Or a tulip or a rose
I already know he loves me
And right back to him love flows.

Why decapitate a flower
To discover his feelings for me?
My love life rests on Fate and Cupid
Their favors set me free

I wonder what he's doing
Is he thinking of me, too?
Does he really love me?
Were those confirmations true?

I should probably end this ranting
But let me add as a close
Don't rely on flowers to tell his feelings
He doesn't confide in those.