YJB

 

All your friends have found love, their match, that someone, the one

Yet you remain​​ ever​​ hopeful, “ Your chapter has just not yet begun.”​​ 

It’s your turn​​ next;​​ you’ve done your time,​​ punched in your hours,​​ paid your dues

You’ve endured the lonely, longing, empty,​​ dismal, single​​ blues

You’ve cried alone, with Bridget, Ben, Hagen, Daz, and Jerry,

Hugging your pillow​​ tightly,​​ through fretful, forlorn nights,​​ so many

Your surely next, your time is nigh

No longer will they glance briefly askance,​​ and walk underwhelmed on bye,

They’ll double take, astonished, stunned and in awe,

Their Jaws in need of recoiling, as they fall​​ immediately​​ to the floor

Overwhelmed​​ by your beauty,​​ both inside and out,

A fire ignited​​ in their hearts​​ that​​ just​​ cannot be doused.

 

But while you​​ await​​ that moment, and hope​​ that​​ it comes soon

Your friends’ loves around you grow stronger, they blossom​​ and they​​ bloom

They’re moving so fast, a ring, a house, a car,

Little footsteps soon to be heard,​​ in the future not so far.

 

Much maligned and undesired, of the group you surely are the pariah​​ 

The dregs of the barrel you are seen by most, yet for​​ true love you still aspire​​ 

​​ You refuse to give up on love, to the ideal you still cling

Praying for any morsel of its essence,​​ a brief romance, nah yet a fling.

 

Although you feel alone,​​ you’re not; another​​ shares your situation,

In fact you are its embodiment, its literal personification

Your worry is identical, your situation and your story,

Its tale is of your life, the perfect allegory.

 

Like you, it’s watched its peers,​​ one by one,​​ being selected

While it lies there in their dust, pitiful and dejected,

Can you see just how your plight, your quandary,​​ is mirrored and reflected

As you both wait desperately in hope, while feeling most rejected.

 

This thing that I do speak of, it never has been prized,

Its end is in fact precisely, your worst nightmare realised

For it is never regarded or chosen, never is it taken

It is perpetually discarded,​​ forever scrapped and forsaken

 

This keeps you up at night; you toss and turn as you contemplate

The idea that,​​ you​​ too,​​ may suffer,​​ the same tragic, dismal fate

Will someone choose you? Select you? Will you find love? Someday Maybe?

Or will you never be chosen, like the yellow jelly baby?