Final Reverence of Juliet (he/him)

He once said: I’ll be Juliet.

The gorgeous party of fall was strained to the end.

The lonesome star imbibed Blue Hawaiian moon, 

fallen into the river’s delirious embrace. 

to retaste tartness of insouciance,

he'd never known, but -perhaps- upon Eden.

In the pockets of his coat; helpless and

sleepless pills, having a feverish fête. 

"On one glorious night, finally, I shall depart," 

euphoric Juliet sighed. His dream;

a seamless stream of midnight smokes, 

a shower of transient pleasure; 

forerunner of collapse’s sickening scent. 

He rolled his own solitude and innocence 

into the alienation paper, and

dragged it, with a ravenous appetite.

He hoped to gather and heal 

the shards of his broken flesh and soul,

to keep himself from scratching the old wound.

Whoever heard his voiceless plea, strived to revive him 

through time and space's impassable chasm.

Though, reality's fragile twist never fell apart. 

The sleepwalker headed straight

toward his compelled, tragic finis. 

Thereafter, the fallen star went supernova.

And heaven sneezed his sniffed frozen tears 

across the somber sense of the town.

Left behind: blackout, oblivion,

within a nuit blanche.

---

Sarah Samarbaf, with a background in art and historical studies, writes to make sense of the world and to remain in touch with it.