The dejected Romeo,
Rose in hand and wrought with shame.
Crushed by a heart that he can’t claim.
The stars quick to lay their blame.
Whispering to the darkness,
“What’s in a name?”

The girl...
Her skin as cold as marble and just as white.
Sits there in the shadows,
With the torn wings that she’d rather hide.
Observing her ill-fated knight.
Underneath the murky beauty of an obsidian sky.

Pale light showing from the moon,
Changing her shade with every degree of swoon,
Sick with grief and full of gloom.
Watching for the flame that eminently looms,
As it infects her powder-like skin that the fire sadly, but deeply consumes.