The Letter Romeo Never Got to Write

To My Juliet,

You will never read this.

I know that. And still I write. Because there is nothing else I know how to do — not now, not beside you. These words are not meant for the living. They are not meant to be remembered. They are only meant to cross the silence between us. If there is a soul beyond the veil, let these pages find yours. Let them land beside your heart, wherever it sleeps.

You are cold now.

But you were never meant to be cold.

When I touch your cheek, I remember the warmth that once lived there. I remember how the sun seemed to find you first, how even candlelight softened for you. My fingers shake as I write, not from fear, but from the knowledge that I cannot bring that warmth back.

I cannot bring you back.

And without you, Juliet, I do not wish to stay.

You were not just my love. You were my life, and the life I wanted. Every morning I hoped to wake beside you. Every evening I dreamed of building a world where we could be more than names on opposite sides of a war. I would have fought the world to keep you. But I never imagined I would have to live without you.

I am not strong enough for that.

They will call this a tragedy. They will say we were too young, too reckless, too much. And maybe they are right. But what they will never understand is this: I was not made to survive you.

They will write plays and poems and sermons. They will try to turn our story into a warning. But they will never know the quiet moments: the way you laughed when you were tired. The way you looked at me like I was not broken. The way you said my name like it had always belonged to you.

I want to remember you as you were — not like this, still and breathless — but alive, in all the small ways. The curve of your smile. The way your voice caught when you were nervous. The way you kissed me like it was a promise, not a question.

You were not a dream.

You were the most real thing I ever touched.

And now I sit here, with poison waiting like an old friend beside me, and I feel no fear. Only stillness. Only longing. I know you cannot hear me. But I write to you anyway, because love is stubborn like that. It keeps reaching, even when the door is closed.

I do not choose death because I crave it. I choose it because I cannot stay in a world that no longer has you in it. I cannot listen to morning birds if you will not wake with them. I cannot breathe a future that does not carry your voice.

So let me go where you have gone.

Let me chase your shadow, even if it takes me through the dark.

This is not the end of us, Juliet. This is just the next place I follow you.

And if I find you on the other side — if there is even the faintest trace of you beyond this life — I will know I was right to come.

I loved you in life. I love you in death.

And if there is anything after, I will love you there, too.

Forever,

Romeo