To the Male Wallflower

I pray God lets me dream of it tonight—
The spontaneity of the Steady World
that runs through us all, confluing
my thoughts to you, you none to me,
even as I open my clam shell
and sit pearled in the hot water,
the steam burning my face
like misty phoenix wings.
Don’t cut yourself away from rising bravery,
rising optimism, rising confidence—
all of these I am now—you don’t want me?
You were invisible even to me, I the Quiet.
I pray God lets you dream of it tonight—
rolls the mist up in your hand
for you to trail across your diems
so you can carpe your life by the wings,
whatever that means.
You match my quietude, my hair and eyes;
I wish I could match your peace, or you my rise.

Author notes

Carpe diem style! Channelling my inner Robert Herrick & Richard Lovelace & Sir John Suckling, etc.

About a dude who wouldn't dance with me at Prom xD but might like me anyway. Might. We'll see ^.^

~Arovell