he likes plays not books and he
plays with my heart every time he reads
romeo and juliet
but he was never romeo; always paris-
the trusty best friend everyone just happens
to forget about
everyone but me, for some terribly strange
unfortunate reason
//
Paris plays guitar and speaks the best french in the class,
his parents expect nothing but perfection because
that is what he is, perfection
a gentleman who fights for noble causes, a prince who every
girl dreams of, a man who never really had the chance to be
a boy
//
I asked him why one day
why he was in love with the girl locked up in the hands of her family
he didn't say anything, i thought he didn't know but
then he said that no one really asked him why and he didn't know
what the right answer was, and he didn't want to give the wrong one

Paris never gets an answer wrong, and perhaps that is because
no one really bothers to ask him why
//
he married the girl next week
although I know that she doesn't know that
he likes plays, not books and he
plays with my heart every time he reads
romeo and juliet
but he was never romeo; always paris-
the trusty best friend everyone just happens
to forget about
everyone but me, and he told me yesterday
that i was the one mistake he would allow himself
to never correct