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 | Allusions/Illusions |
| Between the lines of my senior dissertation seven times-new-romaned pages of Shakespeare's tragic heroines perhaps they're more you than me. You can be my lover I promise not to ask for anything only everything-- My Romeo, the one I call when rain pitter-patters and it reminds me of you. You always understand, and always want my opinion and always want my love (even when you choke on the word) My Othello, viciously jealous My Hamlet, lamenting contemplating death's sweet sting And when I come around I'll be your wronged Ophelia passing bones for flowers and you can blame this madness on me. You may have a violet, for remembrance a pansy, for lament you will rue the day you chose to love another. Lady Macbeth, blood on my hands damned spot, a slewn relationship and missed opportunities Cordelia...begging for love. You can be my Hamlet; I'll be your wronged Ophelia and you can blame this madness on me. |
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