a dandelion to a rosebush
i admire the beauty
of your flowers and the openness
of your thorns. but what i envy
is that cliché—the acceptance
of the way your presence can stick
out, to be seen as you are
without asking to be
looked at—as i'm wary of
being mistaken and acting
like a weed who saw himself in.
but i fear that you won't yourself
appreciate my new appearance
unless i join you in bloom.