Waiting on Orestes

The chance arrived which I chose to ignore.
I hesitated, hopeful as before,
that he would blink and notice me once more.

I said no word, although it was my turn.
I waited though my heart began to churn
for him to act, to speak or else to spurn.

Self-loathing murmurs restless in my ear.
I do not know if I was still from fear
or whether lazy confidence cost dear,

but I know weakness never was the cause:
I had the power; Fortune seemed to pause
for me to snatch my daydreams from her jaws.

I was Electra with her self-made pact,
waiting on Orestes' word to act.
How ought I ask of him the strength I lacked?

My silent fatalism will defeat
the existential mantra I repeat.
Suppose Orestes choose another feat?

One terrifying thought renews its jeer:
I know that should another chance appear,
again I'd hesitate to make him hear.