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Romeo and Rosaline: A Different Dimension
‘Tis of the Capulets that she belongs;
Fair Rosaline, pure as a drop of dew
Lovely and young, it is for her I long,
Her apathy for me does yet ring true.
An ancient feud doth our houses divide;
Any chance to fight we would never miss
For Rosaline although my own heart cried,
‘Twas she denying me a love’s true bliss.
An unrequited love was turned to sorrow;
Thus my heart was an empty, icy vault.
She and I do not share a tomorrow,
And this thought was more a wound fresh with salt.
So I attend the ball of Capulets
To forget the love for whom my heart frets.