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
each inch of my innocence 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.
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