Romeo Poem by Natasa To

My lover, Romeo, walks like twilight—

not loud as noon,

but certain as the hush that makes the stars lean closer.



His name is a balcony in my mouth,

a vow shaped from breath and brave foolishness,

a promise that love is worth the fall.



When he laughs, the world loosens its armor.

Even the moon forgets her distance

and spills silver at his feet.



He is not the boy from old Verona—

no daggered fate, no borrowed tragedy—

but something gentler and more daring:

a man who chooses love daily,

who stays.



Romeo,

with hands that map the small of my back

like cartographers of wonder,

with eyes that turn ordinary hours

into golden scripture.



If I am a restless sea,

he is the patient shore.

If I am a storm of questions,

he is the quiet answer—

not spoken,

but held.



My lover, Romeo,

is not a story written in haste,

but a slow sonnet,

each line unfolding

toward forever.