Is she the One?

The puzzle keeps following me day in day out,
senses gone bizzare under perpetual clout.
Thoughts revisiting with a spare of intended pun,
No respite for me, I still wonder 'Is she the One?'

Hate my self for the war i have plunged into,
hanging by the fate to give me a clue or two.
Like the wasted powder out of a mis fired gun,
keep raking my head to know 'Is she the One?'

Known her since time immemorial, well i think so,
her smile works like a syrup for my every woe.
Still at times eyes go blind, as if looking into the sun,
These are the times when I wonder 'Is she the One?'

Deep down it is known, the very question is faux,
say what she means to me next time we take a walk.
Fear of loss is what i dread most and try to shun,
should be asking my self does she wanna be the One?