For the umpteenth time in my life, I've found myself crushed out on a beautiful and unattainable woman. (Well, maybe not so unattainable, but given my perfect undateability...) And in this case, I've felt the need to express myself about it through poetry. Though this may be an angsty practice, I still hope you Pinecones, at least, approve of my latest piece of work, the title of which is not meant to reflect any real names. I hereby present my latest lovesick geekboy poem: "Lady Smith."
Like Stiles, I've fallen for a lovely strawberry blonde.
Like Lydia, she's a unique character indeed.
She studies the same subjects I do in school,
But not for the same reasons.
She wants to put her English-major skills to work
As a teacher, like many of our fellows.
For now, she works in a metalwork place,
A modern-day blacksmith's shop.
Hence my secret nickname for her...
While she doesn't get to do much metalwork
(Because her boss is fettered by outdated sexism
And treats her like the SSR treats Agent Carter),
She still knows her way around a welding torch.
She wants to teach?
Maybe someday she'll teach me to weld.
I doubt I'd get much use out of that particular skill.
But still, wouldn't it be cool?
Fire and metal, all together.
There's what sets us apart.
She has plans for her future.
Legitimate, practical, focused.
As for me?
When I grow up, I'll be a starving writer
But only if I get to make my own way
And those who say they know better
Stop interfering with every aspect of my life.
After all, it's not work if you enjoy it.
Practicality just isn't my forte, I'm afraid.
Then there's the distance between us
On this earthly plane.
Twice a week, we share two classes in a row.
Four hours in all.
Outside that time, though, we live an hour apart
When the traffic's good.
It's not like either of us will ever have a chance
To drive to the other one's house,
Pick the other one up,
And go to the movies or dinner
Or a concert, likely my first.
Which, frankly, sucks.
After all, part of the reason why I've been single all my life
Is because I've never liked a girl my parents would approve of.
My parents would like Lady Smith.
It's rare that I've felt this way for someone about whom
I wouldn't be afraid to bring home.
A real Gwen to my Peter.
An Allison to my Scott.
A Fionna to my Alex.
An Evan to my Jay.
And she's got great taste in pop culture,
A major plus for me.
Already she's motivated me to try something new
With a lovely, intricate winged logo.
She knows not my fascination with wings and flight.
She knows not the titanic attack she's waged on my heart.
Best of all, we're both tired of where we live.
It's the weather. Her town's too hot.
Mine is what Goldilocks would call "just right,"
But I call "just wrong."
Wherever she goes,
She could bring her future teaching credentials.
She wants to move north.
So do I, because far in the northern wastelands
Lies a storied place where I can potentially meet my goals.
I could write the magical stories of archers and speedsters
And zombies and fallen angels
And survivors of the apocalypse.
Together, we could achieve so much.
Now, there's just one problem...
As much as I've learned about her already,
I don't know if she's free
To test the waters with me.
Or if she even wants to try
With one as inexperienced as I.
Dare I ask her out?