I am no Titania,
whose mind poisoned
by Puck’s subterfuge,
finds your asinine
nature alluring.
You once slaughtered
all rational instincts,
beheaded my sensibility,
paraded my gored heart
like a trophy oozing blood
Thought to seduce me
anew, so confidant in
your primal charms,
my carnal libido, but no
flowery fog deludes me
you are not a guileless
Bottom, but an incubus
maliciously motivated,
a destroyer of souls,
conquest a side sport…
So willingly we entered
that midnight garden
of lust – me, innocent
as Helena, you a serpent
in the plot, more twisted
than Puck’s foiled plan;
I fear I have not removed
myself far enough from
that enchanted dystopia,
am grasping to reach
something stable, sane…
a solid security that defies
magical notions, grounds
me in respectability, a return
to a banality that precludes you.
(Image: classicmoviestills.com)
