Most days I feel like a wallflower
Battered and broken by the bricks I call home
Bruised by your obliviousness to my heart
I know I'm not much to look at
Layers of clothes covering untouchable skin
Not much of anything at all
At least when compared to red-haired perfection
Sometimes I wish you could read these words
These proclamations of my affection unending
Never knowing it was I who wrote them
Falling in love with my inner being
Despite the clunky nervous shell that surrounds it
Then she laughs and brings me back
She places her hand over yours
You are lost to the whole world besides her
And I am just lost in the land of love unrequited
Where my prison cell is composed of fresh paper
And the blackest loneliest ink
Most days I feel like a wallflower
Except when you look up at me and smile
On those days ... I bloom