Pieces Of A Broken Heart

Romeo and Juliet

We were meant to be literature's tragically famed,
Star-crossed lovers whose passion could never be tamed.
Two infatuated souls fatefully destined to unite,
Against all odds and foes in amour's eternal fight.

Yet we were no Romeos chasing a Juliet's pure embrace,
But ill-fated lovers sprinting at doom's reckless pace.   
Blindly crashing through obstacles with misguided desire,
Not realizing that love was the funeral pyre.

Unlike those celebrated youths who paid the ultimate cost,
For eternal devotion that endured when all else was lost,
We courted a very different, more harrowing iconic doom -
Of drowning ourselves in chaos until we met oblivion's tomb.

Our love was no fabled tragedy of families divided,
But self-inflicted wounds from which true trust subsided. 
These treacherous gashes reopened with each twilight,    
Severing us from the union we swore would ignite.

We sought solace in poison more lethal than any sleeping drug,
A noxious blend of toxicity that viciously did us plug.
Paranoia, jealousy, manipulation's mastered alchemy,
Our deaths by self-destruction, not by fateful poetry.

Buried alive in avalanches of resentment and possession's reigns,
Our captive hearts suffocated by selfishness's stains.
Consumed daily by egoism's insatiable hunger, 
Indulging our own vices until no vows lingered longer. 

Where art thou my Romeo, my Juliet of exalted praise?
Truth be told, dead and turned to dust many midnights in the haze.
The blood-lust of our savage ending overrode the fairy-tale we told,
Of two heroically devoted dreamers whose living wish was bold.

We did not perish ennobled in amour's glorious death grip,
But extinguished by madness when our souls slipped from being equipped.
The finale we scribed was grim by a quill of hatred's decree, 
No poetic tragedy, just two graves filled by killing love fatally.