Shakespeare Could Have Cast You

You had me oblivious to your antics, as you hushed me tenderly by the creek into your hide and seekable soul-surrendering secret relief. There, you cottled me into softness with a simple chin caress, which continued to smooth the entire twisting course of my delicate remorse. My garments shifted from their skin, slipped into the witnessing wind. You convinced me to sin so remarkably, so recklessly, for one worshipped glide of feigned intimacy. I bemoan my mixed senses behind the curtain of uncertainty. Oh, Romeo, if only I'd known you. If only I knew that your prestigious people-pleasing smile was practice for the play. That those granny pleasing manners and Band-Aid banter would soothe my soul to sleep. That those jovial jokes and caramel coated coaxing would lead me quietly to the creek where your meaty man hands would span the length of my virginity and beyond. That your chivalrous, chiseled chest and incandescent camper's scent would be compressed against my gentleness. By this indulgence I had relinquished your respect and you had tossed my trust. So dissolved the blending of lust, and with it the end of us. Your camouflaged fibs of forever love would continue deep through the space in my ribs, into the closing scene. Romeo, so applause-worthy were you on your secret stage that Shakespeare could have cast you just as you had cast me.