My Juliet - 5 : 9

"My Poet - 1

How wretched you must feel, so all alone,

Confused and empty, as I was at first.

Death is such a monster, dark and cold,

Yet something which this muse no longer fears. 

Know that this was not by my design,

Nor by no wish nor dream of sleep or wake.

Would that I could hold thee in mine arms,

Stroke your hair and kiss your stubbled cheeks,

And in the warmth of us, find peace at last;

Yet loveless be the Fates, it would appear. 

My heart weeps for how miserable they are.

I implore thee, Poet-- know of everything;

Each moment of this nightmarish ordeal,

Beginning on the day my fate was sealed.

No changes to my status as a fiend --

I surely have betrayed thee. I know this.

Seeking not to undermine thy pain,

Nor justify dishonesty, my love...

My goal be simple: help thee to accept

Thy muse's state of mind, from start to end,

Mayhaps find forgiveness in thy soul,

And see me not as in thy fantasies,

But as a person, sick and terrified.

I leaveth thee such things, not to imbue

A broken soul with yet more agony,

But to provide thee all that you require

To grant thy Juliet her final wish:

Compassion, and a very patient heart

(The medicine they give me brings a fog;

And other things lacking in dignity.

I write as much as I can, when I can,

And take advantage of lucidity,

Please, my love, read right through to the end,

Know that I have loved you all my life,

And that I hope we meet again someday.

Heavy are these thoughts upon my chest,

But now I need to lie down, try to rest.

- Juliet."

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- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.