Gilly Juliet

You hid behind your door
at my approach.
Ensured the phone was off the hook,
refused to heed the call  
my finger made upon your bell.
 
And I,  
 
all outward upward swelled towards you,  
my chest
a barrel filled beyond capacity
and tautened rough
against its bandings and its staves,
heavy, heaving, strained
with leashed-up words
I wanted then  to say,
 
was left,
head hung and hollowed out,
a cold stone in my stomach’s pit,
outside,
denied the chance to speak,
and made a thing forgotten and ignored
 
For you’d become a hardened Juliet
who came to think young Montague as trivial,
and turned her back
upon her balcony,
to go inside
and close up tight, dismissively, the doors
and windows to her room
to silence him and shut him out,
a thing forgotten and ignored.