How to trust a harlot

Thou true beguiling nature has cast a dark umbra over my uncertain judgement;
To love or not to love;
To trust or not to trust;
To know or not to know;
To be or not to be;
Thou hath given me reason to doubt your true intentions before;
Am I to be played as a fool yet again? Or should I believe that you actually might feel something for me?
Will thou glance at me when I'm not looking, and put aside all harlot duties to respect my presence;
I hardly think so;
I hysterically ridicule myself because I know I'm not good enough for the likes of thou and those deviant fiends you call your friends;
Or am I too good? They've all said that I was far out of your depths, but I hardly thought so...
Should I bring myself to trust you, harlot?

Hell is decorous of thou

Oh what a pernicious thorn in the side of my delicate rose embedded;
What snide, narcissistic devil hath burdened me with such disgrace and mortification;
To not even utter a word of salutation or care represents thou true nature;
A harlot, a hustler, a fallen angel;
In mine eyes thou can do no wrong but to wrong me thus;
A glance of recognition, of knowing eyes, would satisfy my numbing breath;
But thou ne'er grant me such advantage;
To look down on a commoner from your opulent, mountain-high throne;
Well, I bid you, good king, bereave me here and spare me the pain of your ignorance and discomposure;
Mine is an existence dedicated not to you nor your derisive consorts who are yet to show me kindness;
I am blameworthy, and only I;
The knowledge of your notoriety left me as you grabbed me closer and held an embrace so sweet that I've dreamt of it hereafter in such scintillating manner;
Your kind face doth haunt my sleep as I think of your foul treatment, how could you regret something you desired so?
For shame, my love, hie thee to hell, a place where you belong.