If he is dead, if Romeo is dead,
Then I am dead as well.
Night cannot exist without day,
For what else would night eclipse?
And day cannot exist without night,
For what else would it enlighten?
Romeo is day entwined in night,
Wrapped inside an enigma and
Twisted into brilliant black skies.
He is day’s cheerful face and laughter,
Night’s dark conquest and senseless murder.
He is my fool, my starry constellation
That tells the story of my searing love
Which now burns too brightly for I,
Garish sun and gaudy trinket,
Have made fools of us both.
Come to me on wings of night,
So that I may be a speck of snow upon your darkness.
Come to me on wings of night,
And let me warble the tune of longing desperation,
Of a love always desired but never truly had,
Of loss, and tragedy, and hopeful joy,
Of final, hateful devastation, and of love –
Always of love.
Let me be the eyes gazing up at the night,
For it is clear that you are blind.
If you are dead, if you are dead,
Then I, darkening my brash cheeks
And rouged lips,
Will die as well.