Rosaline

Trying to find your lost self in love (or lust?)

Photo by Farrinni on Unsplash

I.
and Juliet. at the mercy
of trenchant love, blustering
love, of the pyre’s hunger
and passion, they are down
and out in the chasms of
perception, nailed to a cross,
born anew as saviors

II.
against Remembrance, the
congealed failings of the
past in tandem and
meticulous. could a palpitating
unfeeling do away with hurt?
oh, Rosaline, oh, Juliet:
could one be lathered with your flesh?
acidic and sweet, scraping away

III.
the script of the present,
inlaid with memory? a
bunker away from the scars
(only on the mirror, not on
the body, not on the body) —
could it be found in you
oh Rosaline and Juliet?