|Juliet in Scrubs
Author: electrical moon PM
A narrative poem about if Juliet hadn't killed herself and had run instead.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Adventure - Words: 407 - Published: 08-08-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2941216
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Juliet in Scrubs
Juliet held the vial in her hands, a shimmering green substance in shadowed glass bottle.
A moment's pause for infinity's decision, then she threw back her head and swallowed.
She woke in a filmy, water-logged world and blinked to blow away the black veil.
Shards scattered along the floor as Romeo crashed, his skin a soul-stolen pale.
The flask of toxin shattered on marble, echoes rebounding through the hall.
She clutched his shining sliver of moon high, upon her breast to fall.
But just one breath of sweet, cobwebbed air is enough to water a thought.
A treasonous notion, bright hope wreathed in betrayal, in shadow she conceived and brought.
To flee, for the time of an eternal life could spare her the seconds of night.
Upon the threshold of freedom, she reined a mare with a mane of snowy white.
Dashing out into a jeweled ebony cape, the hooves of her steed pound the sand.
They race without ceasing into rosy morn, clouds of desert marking the land.
Exhausted, the horse halts, sides heaving with pants but she walks on towards the sun.
She is consumed by blinding brightness till her lids seal with slumber freshly won.
Behold! The waking world has transformed, she has stumbled into modern day.
The sky is clawed apart by towering glass, bleeding silhouettes of deep, rippling gray.
Smoky sunlight soaks the oxygen, satiated with the sounds of vivid life.
She'll cut her slice of this novelty, death's runaway bride with her sharp knife.
Finding a lesson to repair her passion's infidelity, she is taught to stitch and sew.
With each passing year she becomes a better heart mender, tying each knot with a pretty bow.
She holds in her mind the blueprint of life, the residence of the soul.
Breathing by the wish of a shooting star, she prays to save her spirit from abandoned love's toll.
Every piece of pulsing pink flesh she touches revives her own damaged one.
Her cavity fills anew with a sweet nectar—fresh, scarlet blood.
Yet with all her healing she is still so alone, vanished in a different realm.
Her being is from a different eon and in departure she's lost control of the helm.
Solitary in a drowning darkness, she listens to Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club.
Hanging onto the numbing ghost of faith, this is Juliet in scrubs.