Juliet’s Dilemma

White robed and ready for bed, I haven't thought about him twice.

I have gazed into the eyes of many masqueraded men tonight.

Yet, he seems to think he is special,

pestering my window with small pebbles, a supposed act of love.

Although I feel nothing but indifference towards him, now knowing he is a Montague tempts me some.

It could be the rebellious act that would prove to my father that I am not owned by him.

The night ushers me out to the balcony.

The dark, velvet blue sky is a blanket above me and Romeo.

The symphony of grasshoppers is romantic in and of itself.

I lift my naked heels to see over the elaborate cast iron balcony

to see Romeo grinning below.

Sweaty, heavy auburn hair staying still, even with the accompaniment of a breeze.

I ponder as I stare down at him in annoyance,

what he perceives as me gazing into his eyes.

An opportunity is all he is to me.

An escape from marrying Paris, who picks his nose with the tip of his foil.

An escape from my father, who thinks of me as a child,

a young teenager, rather than the witty young adult I am.

I am thirteen, perfectly capable of making my own decisions.

I let words escape my lips.

The only thing I can think of saying during this unexpected visit

a simple 'Ay me!' a touch of irritation in my voice.

But Romeo dares not catch onto it.

'She speaks!' Romeo’s voice reverberates through the courtyard,

obnoxious and desperate.

He enters a state one can only describe as a love-ridden ramble.

I am offended by his description of me as a 'bright angel.'

In the eyes of other suitors, I am much more.

Suitors are people Romeo could not dream of having.

I glance into his eyes and look away,

trying to avoid eye contact.

I cannot help but feel bad for him,

dark amber eyes blinded by devotion as he waits for a response.

Shall I play along? I will avoid his heartbreak and rebel my stern father.

How horrible could it possibly turn out to be?

I respond, hesitant,

trying to mask my apathy to his confessions of love,

hoping he is far enough away to miss my eye rolls.

'O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?'

It is as easy to say as if it were real affection.

Afterall, I said the same thing to Paris last week