On The Inconsistencies of Postal Service

You'll be the end of me.
I'll be the end of I.
We'll be the final letters
---The last surviving kind.
Who echo bittersweet
The words of lovers
separated
By spanning of the seas.
Juliet was taken
Abducted by her pride.
To a land beyond the waves.
With tears in every tide.
And Romeo left weeping
Not bold enough was he
To sail the ship of longing
And take then to the sea.
Wherewith their pens of precious steel
Then inked upon my flesh
The "sorry for" and "soon I'll be"
Were sent to bridge the breadth.
Packaged in an envelope
Sealed with great ardour
Kissed with tender touch
Simple scratch I was no more.
For parchment is peculiar.
Plain and blank as snow.
But fell'd into the hands of scribes
A masterpiece we grow.
And so was I, sent from she
To her prince, 'cross the sea
And you was I,
I was you
The lady's reply
Making two.
Twins of scrawling lover's words
Of romance whispered,
Yet never heard.
Still, alive in ears of mankind's type
The softly language of hearts alike.
Alas for destination!
And weep now Mercury
For I did fail my mission
While yours fell incomplete.
The prince went fourth and sent you
By nature, inquiring words
And starving for her answer,
His love to madness turned.
He waited nights in anguish,
For want of a reply
To the letter he had sent her,
Now woe for him denied.
For on my way
From maiden's hands
A storm blew from the Westward lands
The cargo spilled
The crew, storm killed.
With deadly blow the ship did go.
Beneath the sun: we all have died
Beneath the stars: we lie in waves
Beneath the moon: we wave goodbye
For now we dwell in seaman's grave.

And I, the letter, am lost forever.

And so the prince found no reply
To his question
Who's answer was I.

~kismint