romeo, romeo, wherefore art thou romeo?
if you were not so naive and easily swayed by the attraction of beauty, then perhaps i would still have you in the grasp of my palm. you had me wrapped tightly around your finger, and you never once attempted to travel beneath my murky waters of flesh, and bone, and appearance. an explorer is what you are not; instead, you relish in the quivers of one's crimson lips and the sways of one's defined hips. how foolish you are, my dear romeo. the stars are pitted against you, and oh, how the gods cry out for revenge. you are fortunes fool, my love; it appears you've danced with the devil one too many times. woe is me, for lending you my heart, and watching in horror as you crushed it, leaving a bloody pulp that once was, that once loved you. perhaps we were the star-crossed lovers, beloved romeo, because you were the only man i allowed myself to love. and you loved me for a time, until you found sights far prettier to behold. fortune was never in your favor, darling, because no longer do my stars align with yours. to that, i say goodbye.
a sweet adieu,
rosaline
an; today is my birthday, so enjoy this scrap that just flew from my fingers.
