For me? Will you join me in death? (and other short stories and poems)

Dear Romeo (Short Prose)

Dear Romeo

Dear Romeo,

Do you remember when I first set my eyes on you? The ball with the masked faces, all fake but our souls. That was everything. The pureness of our souls. That was the only thing I was aware of and could see.

And I did see. I saw your soul.

The beauty, the weakness, the heartache and the romance. Your soul was beautiful, but it was weak. My soul was deformed; I was too young to be aware of the rights and wrongs of our worlds. But I was strong, with the ability to face rejection. I was the heartbreaker. I could have broken your heart. But I did not. That was the only romantic bone in my body.

I knew. Right from that moment you let me see into your eyes, which were clear blue. A window with no stains or cracks. I saw straight through you, and I knew it was destined. I was the one to heal your heartache. You were the one to cleanse my soul. It was destined for your soul to touch mine, and twist with it in a sudden motion. Then...your beauty, weakness, heartache and romance became me.

I became whole. I was always one person; my own person. I thought I was whole, but that knowledge prevented me from what I could have been. But I gained the courage to follow you. The love gave me passion. No. The passion gave me love. I did not know anything but falling…. For a while, I knew nothing but the downward speed that contracted my senses leaving me breathless. I did not believe in love. I shook my head at those delusional stories of how much she loved him. I thought of it was poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural idea that sounded like poetry. Then I met you and everything changed in my head and heart and I, as the cynic, became the converted ardent zealot. I fell from the cages of my Rapunzel Tower into your arms that were stretched wide open, eager to catch me. Did I ever stop falling? Yes. Did I ever crash? Not – you caught me safely.

Our love was blind, but it found its way to us using all other four senses. Touch…I touched your soul, with a varied texture; hard like an egg shell and soft like an egg white. Smell…the pureness of your heart did not smell of anything-it was pure- but the emptiness was the smell of our love. Hear – the drip drip of your barriers melting as soon as you let me inside you. Taste- I tasked the sweetness of the passion-

That became love.

Or the love that became passion.

What I ignored was my mistake. The curse. The curses in our names. But the love was too blind to see that and joined us – sewed us up, but tangled the thread so much that it could not be undone. But what was so significant about our names? I knew that a rose would smell as sweet if it was called some other name.

But unlike our love, which had no way of knowing about the curse, I ignored it, desperate to be with you. I ignored that hatred piled into our names. Hate. Pure hate.

Some say that the hate overpowered the love.

Some say the love was never real, yet the hate was.

Some say the love was a tragedy, but also a miracle.

What do I say? We died for our love. Our love killed us. We died. Our love survived.

It followed us blindly and loyally. It stayed with us.

Our love survived and that was our happy ending.