Don’t see our love as the story’s true tragedy, Our love was darling and true, Though short lived and young, The true tragedy of traditional values. My light died with the stars in his eyes, I knew alone, my hands would be forced To hold another’s, I did not want. And with the dagger in my chest, I laid with him.
Romeo had cried for me, Believed me gone, Had acted too soon, consumed by his grief, he stole his own breath, before I had a chance to speak.
They found us together,
Sleeping forever in embrace,
People mourned the tragedies,
Traditional values bring.
©2021 Poppy B. Humble
Poppy B. Humble Writes 