Dear Rosaline,
You tender horse, you lucky one, you one who got away— you live. You horse. Replaced too swiftly by Romeo, the little boy of flighty feelings. You cow.
You catalyst.
Without you two would not die. Without you hundreds would not cease fighting. Oh, Rosaline, did you know? Did you weep at your cousin's death? Were you simply a replacement?
One swapped for the other, who can tell what is real?
It wasn't you who made him love your kin. No, your Juliet was the peg that shut that coffin. But who is she and who are you? Two of a kind, birds of a feather but not forever.
That could have been you, Dear Rosaline. You dodged a bullet. He didn't love you or your family until she came along. Were you jealous of her? Did you remember him when they both lay dead and cold? That could have been you.
Did you end up alone? Did you regret anything? Were you jealous when Juliet died and the world stood still? No one will know what you started, but please, be quiet.
I'm sorry you never got your ending. I just want to know: were you jealous?
