Poetry

Juliet’s Friend

I think of her and it’s enough.
She thinks of me and I’m complete.
I talk to her and she laughs.
She talks to me and I’m lucky.

I’m her friend,
she’s my love.
To me, she’s Juliet,
and to her, I’m Juliet’s friend.

I think this zone is for friends.
There are no beds here.
No letters and sweet dream wishes.
No looking into each others eyes,
looking for stars.

There’s only one chair.
She’d sit on it when she comes to visit,
and I’d stand in front of her.
Like a comedian, I’d try and make her laugh.
There are no walls,
but I can’t leave this place.
I’m trapped.

Sometimes she’d visit with a broken heart,
and I’d cheer her up,
and help her glue them back together.
She loves boys that break hearts.
I don’t understand why.

She likes me,
I love her,
To me, she’s my Juliet,
To her, I’m just a friend.

I’m the Romeo that didn’t get to kill himself…

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