Sometimes you have no reason to stay,
and realize that's a perfect argument to go.
And that taking an entirely new way,
is the sore but single method to grow.

If you're washed-on abeyance's bight,
and you feel decision's heavy heft:
To choose the left where nothing's right,
or go to the right where nothing's left.

Remember it matters not where you proceed,
or which mountain you want to ascend.
It does not matter whether you succeed,
it is the journey that matters in the end.

Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was all dreamy, and fabled.
She was brave enough to love you.
She was brave enough to be crumpled to shreds yet fake a smile flawlessly.
She grew on you.

Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was graceful and too kind to be true.
She was the daisy of your garden, where flowers weren't just a few.
She loved sunshine as much as the misty moon.
She was ravishingly rhythmic. Forming melodies out of those midnight stars,
adding beats and verses to your mundane mornings.
Your Juliet, your Daisy, your sanguine Sestina
all of them. Yet, nothing better than a reverie.

Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was all chirpy and consoling.
Solace was what made her.
Her love was fire, worth burning for.
At times, her eyes form glaciers,
arctic and numb.
At times, she feels worn out and ready to drop.
But, Juliet's audacious to hold on tight yet, taken down by you. Remember, she grew on you.

Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was delicate but humorous.
Compassion knit her soul together.
You tell her, she is all you ever wanted and is grateful for.
But, the woman lying next to you hears the same.  

She was a writer and left you one.
Juliet, your Juliet.
Not anymore.

If choices were wishes
I would wish
For you
If you were in an ocean full of fishes
Then my hook would be baited
For you
I would kiss a thousand frogs, looking for romance
But hey, I’m not looking for prince charming
Just You
I would fight a dragon with pointed lance
Brave the fire, risk life and limb
For you
I am not a princess looking for rescue
I am not sleeping, or cleaning cinders
I’m here
Ditch the white steed, there are no villains to pursue
Give me our happy ever after, love me.
And that will do

so maybe this isn’t a second chance
but what if it’s our last?
so dance with me this time
instead of your bottle of ***** at 3 am every night
and make love to the one you’re in love with
not just for validation
but for comfort in your relations
love the way you were put here
and let someone kiss your scars, dear
you’ll feel better after a good night’s rest
better than the the blade of a razor slicing across your chest
and your art can still be great
without killing what’s left of you in order to “create”
find someone who doesn’t want to domesticate you
and let them take your shades of blue
and turn them into purple hues
your mental state has never defined you
and you like to experiment, as if on cue
you text me at 11, and unable to get through to you
i leave you be
and then feel even worse the next morning when i wake up
too early to make up
lies
about everything you said last night
so instead i write
and i tell the truth
of course, i’ll never show any of this to you
but if you happen to find it
maybe you’ll be flattered to know
that you make beautiful art yourself,
but the art of observing you is something
only i have had the time to master