What if Juliet never met Romeo? by Stephen A. Dantes


Her heart is Florentia after the brush laid thus
I am Palazzo Vecchio before Leonardo,
before Michelangelo, before Pisa and Siena.
I am the Eiffel Tower to her France,
her cri de coeur,
I écrire freedom where chanteurs fail,
where la historia imprison
and el amor is stained by the artista.

Like the English to her French I am Spain
I will build métros to visit her tierras from under,
Create couleurs on paletas that don’t exist
just to peinture a portrait of her in my soul
Je t’aime like los mexicanos love,
I’m romantic like les hommes of Paris
and still Florentia keeps secrets from me
though her arquitectura ages.


I feel deep within me, inside the space I’ve found,
that she is the Juliet for me, standing afar
She makes música with her walk, like so;
thud and thump touch my wishing well,
the place where wishes tell a tale not known,
where sound from perfume smells reminds me
of what Romeo could be
and what it means to set love free.

She wants to remain history’s beauty
I want to paint over her pages a future so free it aches
It hurts that only visions are what I have to keep
as I traverse this terrace without a plan
I have nothing to lose but a story immortalized
We can be if the poet wants, or the playwright,
or exist as the desires of a wanting audience
native to Shakespearean time.


Mi casa is her casa, she just don’t know that yet
And I’m that hombre amable in her jardin de fleurs
I’m just waiting for the sun to set to plant it
I will build windows just to stand below
And rid this world of poisons
just to own and keep the ink that stained our paper,
Force William’s hand to paint happily-ever-after,
the only sonnet dreamt for summers.

Not only Catherine II can coup d’état
I am that coup en retard, but my motives are
not as stained as Peter III’s misfortune
My intention is ‘make waste years already written’
and rewrite, oui, écrivez an eternity that we all want;
I want the girl, and here she does not die,
Not yet, not before I, and not without
First, I must convince her to love me still


She is that special part of my dreams
where I am able to be what I want, even fly,
My mental Picasso without limits to canvas.
Like Morne Fortune or Statue de la Liberté, I will fortify what she is
and she will stand a nation before all
I am her citizen, only I
Yes, her treasures will be unlocked
And if it means making a key, I will… I have

We shall be the ‘star cross’d lovers’ of our time
and just pretend that the other –
of Capulet and Montague – never met in theirs,
but waited for William’s rebirth in this era
to make us a forever that overshadows swords and guns;
Like Florentia, like van Gogh and van Beethoven
And Mozart, and love itself, and you,
Yes you, the Für Elise of my heart

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