I met her on a narrow street of old Verona
Her beauty’s magical, her name was Lady Mona
She rolled a cigarette between her diva fingers
A little cherry smoke around her gently lingers

She had a long deep fire-coloured autumn hair
That with the wind dance as if out of very care
Her eyes are brighter, gayer then azure sapphires
Two little diamonds that can start unholy fires

Her ******* are full of life, the sweetest goddess milk
It taste like childhood memories wrapped up in silk
The skin – an undiscovered lands of sinful wild
It sends you on a trip so rough yet very mild

She was so picturesque, a genuine sugarbomb
Like rays of sun that dazzle through a naked palm
I pray thee, Jupiter, align the heaven stars
And let me be the one who strikes of her guitars

Wish I could walk to her and ask her dearly out
I feel so brave yet nervous, want to scream and shout
I want to spill it out, express my inner passion
But that’s not me behaving in such crazy fashion

Hell to the no! I go! I’ll spit my fire lines!
I am a blonde! I curse those stupid *** designs
I’ll offer things to her, I promise I’ll pushy
****, I am gonna offer her my cola *****

If men be ***** models, I shall be one too
I have one in my mouth – a nasty point of view
If men can flirt and conquer, so can ******* I
This Aphrodite’s taken, she is only mine

I walk to her, approach her like the mighty Taurus
Rehearse my lyrics, shuffle through my love thesaurus
I smell perfume – ambrosia, nectar, lemonade…
Formation, hold up, queen of… ******* Lemonade..?

“What is the name of thee, do tell me, pretty dear
Just like the beauty goddess you to me appear
By any chance you are one of the youthful Graces?
Be careful, darling, I can see your leather laces”

I’ve been counting stacked bricks
running my hands over the grout,
tracing each corner with my fingertips,
building them up to cover my doubt.
You could marvel at the beauty in the stone,
completely ignoring that it fully insulates
it keeps all out and ensures you’re always alone,
can’t even slip through the cracks or the grates.

I was dying to get out from where I was in,
oblivious to my own paradise,
with a tongue in cheek and **** eating grin,
ignoring all the ways words can slice.
I’m always left with empty hands
and your court is overflowing with *****,
a simple truth no one understands;
there is no life beyond Verona Walls.

I’m inspecting crumbling support beams,
running my hands and my skin catches a splinter.
It’s not as structurally sound as it seems,
but the continuing construction it does not hinder.
What do you even label an impenetrable wall,
is it a friend or is it a foe?
Do you judge it on it’s length or if it’s tall,
I guess only the person on the other side will know.

I was waiting to escape my own dwelling,
unaware of the safety it always could bring,
could I ever return home, there is no telling,
but the consensus is a no that can sting.
I’m aimlessly drifting among the sands,
and you mistake my pleas as cat calls,
a simple truth no one understands;
there is no life beyond Verona Walls.

How can you know if the grass is more green,
if you cannot even glance to the other patch?
It could be more vibrant, or just more clean,
or it could just be a perfect match.
When you know every corner and every nook,
you can’t help but feel that you’re Iocked in a cage.
Maybe I’m dismissive and should take another look,
I mean sometimes you have to re-read the same page.

I’ve seen that time keeps going on
and that our lungs continue to breathe,
but the blue skies and sunshine are gone,
I’ll never forget the day it chose to leave.
I’ll cling to all crumbs and strands,
ditch rivers and streams to chase waterfalls,
‘cause no one ever understands
there is no life beyond Verona Walls.

Telephone wires are tangled in the trees tonight
and the stars are copper colour,
as if scattered from a fountain
and Romeo is calling from beneath the balcony
of the Capulet family in Verona,
trying to get reception-

but the receiver is busy
moving on, and growing up-

Juliet, the girl he is calling, has a new phone
that she doesn't trust with unfamiliar numbers,
and his is listed 'unknown'

Unsent messages: "goodnight
"goodnight- parting is such sweet sorrow,
that I shall say good night till it be morrow."

The story of the star-cross'd lovers was no tragedy at is end.
Nobody died, nobody had to pretend
to die. They rarely think of one another now,
only from time to time do they wonder 'what if'
or regret the absence of a real goodbye.

Romeo never got the chance to defy the stars
Juliet never got the chance to contemplate him cut out in them
and neither of them got the chance to commit,
and neither of them took a chance with suicide.

Telephone wires in trees, copper stars-
-ghosts, wished on, shooting, burning far, far away-

Unspoken words: "some consequence
yet hanging in the stars,
auspicious stars"

(the fairest of them, he'd once found in her eyes)-
no reception, nothing received.
In this love story, nobody dies.

It is remembered as any other night before.
It was not long until where Romeo had come and gone
he'd left behind just a flicker of a frisson
in memory, growing distant,
gradual decay, and then
he was nothing more than threads to weave
the patchwork of a dream,-
hard to recall, a close call,
a near miss, a could-have been-
but it was harder, with time, to believe it was ever
the real love she yet knew nothing of
at the keen age of only thirteen.

It was Paris she fell for. The two were to marry
and for her bouquet that day, the flower she chose
to carry- for their romance and sweetness-
was the rose, and in her vows, she spoke of her love
being boundless and deep as the sea,
and infinite. All the wishes he'd made on stars
and coins in fountains had come to be.

Spoken words: "Have I thought long to see this morning's face..."

So many saved lives and one love lost and
a glooming sort of peace settled over
the star-cross'd streets of Verona.