once again, with wily Shakespeare

here once again we sit with wily Shakespeare
in our hands. i think of nothing but the glimmer
on the wall, above your head.
do you know? i've never noticed how
your eyes, so luminescent, so voluminous, so quietly
do rest upon my face.

i must declare i feel as one enamored!
why, in my bones does stir a carbonation,
and in my back a stinging point did pierce,
alarming and sedating with its warmth.

i do beleive you've brushed me accidentally,
and i feel it. oh! the power of the unintended
movement of one's leg! not one arrow, but a
quiver, does reside within my chest,
with marked residences labeled in its cavity.

deranged, my heart! wherefore do you so thunder?
arise, mine eyes, to view the fervent
startled globes before thee, growing soft
in their intensity as mine own palpitations.

each syllable which leaves your pretty mouth
does give me fever, does exhume me,
puts a pen into the pocket of each lullaby i read.
and now we sit with clever Shakespeare,
quickly perforating barriers,
reading into every structured phrase the
slight enamoured sparks between us.

oh, you, Cupid! in the corner,
laughing at your practised sport.
of a quite contented lady
now you've made a scrambling lover;
of a poised and limber heart,
you've created quite a mess.
watch your arrows, scheming Cupid,
that they hit where you've intended!