So tender it hurts

6 May 2024

        So Tender It Hurts

       

        I thought aimlessly about the fact or the fiction in Romeo. How I used to wonder what he was doing, when I wasn’t there to hold him, when he wept. I thought about what he may have done if it weren’t Romeo but instead myself. Would he have thought about it like I have? Would he have torn to pieces to know I’ve wept like I have, for him? For him, would he have been? Is there even a single silver of the possibility that maybe he cared? Might he have done something? Anything? Anything to show for the atrocious turmoil he had toured me through. Romeo had me grasped by the soul and he had known it to be so. How wrong of him to be, for meeting me.

        As I laid in my tomb I thought long and hard about what I would do if all of this be for nought. What shall I do on my own if he isn’t the one for which he says to be truthful.

        “That couldn’t happen,”

        “Not my Romeo, he wouldn't stoop to such low bearings.”

        Oh but by Love, be wrong. Love can be hurtful and tragic. Love can be cruel and unjust in his ways in which he was. After Romeo had managed to find me in my cursed tomb, in which he’d find my fallacious cadaver. I on the other hand had just awoken from my false tragedy. Romeo not seeing my cheeks turning rosier as the clock strikes. I jump to see Romeo with a god-destroying poison in his clutches. As he was about to take the tender kiss of death, I jumped up and slapped the disastrous bottle out of his grasp. A look of shock and disarray appeared on his features.

        “Juliet? My fair Juliet? Be you true?”

        “Yes my beloved, I am for true!”

        “Oh, my sweet Juliet! You’re alive! And breathing! Your skin just as fair and dainty as I last foresaw you!”

        “Yes my love, I am alive, you're alive! Oh, gracious days!”

        I wept for the glee that had sprung accompanying his arrival. Romeo looked as though he had just received the happiest news he could’ve ever been given. The next thing I knew we were running, as though the strings of fate commanded it. We ran with our lives side by side, our hearts identical to each other, our wants parallel to the other. The needs and desires of each other , as fair as all Verona. But alas, all things must come to an end. Romeo stopped me as we were to turn the corner.

        “Wait here my love, I hear a shuffle.”

        “The Capulet mausoleum has been opened! Sound the alarm! Round Lord Capulet! Justice be present!”

        “My love, we must vanish immediately, with indeed haste!”

We ran and sprinted and sprinted and ran. Running for our lives in Verona and Mantua. As we leapt through the fields of old time past, future time present. We kept running until we came upon the boat for which freedom would prevail. For which our star-crossed path would collide.

        We finally arrived in the city determined to vanquish all doubt and deceit.

        “My love, we’ve finally arrived! I can spend the rest of my life with my beloved!”

        “I’m so proud of us!”

        “Romeo, I dream of the life we shall fair.”

        We came upon a hotel, called “Stella Attraversare” to which we would be made guests, and get a room for a few days stay. Romeo paused and turned to me. The labor of an angel stained his features as he turned. He looked as though an angel had fallen from the great clouds of the kingdom itself.