A spark,

A bountiful, bright spark,

One which casted joy in our hearts

The hearts of youth, sweet, innocent youth…

In reminiscing about that bright spark,

We were prancing like playful kids

Into the coldness of the world around;

Our prancing and dancing sparked brilliance

As the flame of passion was then ignited

And brought us the a cloth of bright red

The red string of fate bound us together

Our song, sung by a fabric of happiness,

And the dragon, in the banquet, must resign

From his might and posh, and bask upon

The quiet, simple life he has with thee.

My darling, we were meant to be together,

Though as the feast and festivities came;

Similar feasts and festivities crashed;

The banquet was locked and sealed 

As the string met another gush of red,

A red that does not spark bright,

A red which snuffs flames 

A darker red...

A crimson red,

Teetering to black,

Like fetters of death:

‘Tis the color of blood;

Harsh, winter cold, red blood

The blood which killed our beloved spark

Snuffed out before own very own eyes;

While fate’s string became loose threads,

Ripped to shreds by the chain of my own soul.

So please take my hand one last time, my Juliet,

As it had gone in the olden times, forth I tread,

As classic as the banquet I must march on,

And ‘fore the once indomitable soul of the dragon

Faces his own defeat in the hands of the banquet.

One final dance to celebrate a once brilliant flame

The lost spark of passion and intimacy that I, Romeo,

And you, beautiful Juliet, know many a story of,

Even if an absolute none believe in that story,

And the lost flame, like the untold, none will remember

Except for you and I, until the day we see the light.

Thank you, my star-crossed lover, and farewell.