My dear Romeo,
I stay still as you caress by back. Involuntary my breath hitches from the touch. My eyes flutter close to hold back a glance over my sholder. I know you are doing what you think I want. You’re giving me a small amount of you as if I am to be rationed for a war that I never enlisted in.
I keep my eyes close and hold back the tears for the silent pain, that the single gentle, touch caused. We have grown older together as we pledged to do and yet we cannot, rather you cannot.
I can settle for a kiss. I tell myself but that is pulled away as an option since a caress is all you can bare to give. I can settle for this caress if there is to be nothing else. But I know my soul weeps.
It weeps from the lack of passion, from the lack of desire that blazed in your eyes when wanting me. A tear escapes and my skin flashes from hot to cold embarrassed for the selfishness of wanting you.
Not a hand hold. Not a lightly felt caress or a barely felt kiss. I want you. Where the fire is shown and strength of your longing for me is given through your embrace.
I miss the way you respond to me. Plain old me, Juliet. I felt strong bringing you to the edge and allowing you to dive into my depths.
I miss you, Romeo. My Romeo. You will never get to see this letter I write. I will tear it up and discarded it. I just need (pause and another silent tear falls)
I just need to say I love you and if we shall never share a physical love again, then so it will be. Till death do us part.
Your loving wife, Juliet.
(Would this have been them in today’s world? What if that little blue pill didn’t work? Is love that powerful to keep them bonded?)