(cross-posted from AO3)
They meet in midsummer,
He's a child still.
He calls her an angel and claims love as his own.
But children don't feel the love of that kind.
She smiles at him and he smiles back,
a roguish trickster grin.
They're young adults the next time they meet.
Separated by class and custom.
Our love would be forbidden she warns.
Politicians and Jedi can't fall in love,
But they do, they do,
they do.
and It's a volatile love,
but they pretend otherwise.
no one will realize until it's too late.
The hand that destroys is controlled by madness, and so the hand itself is not to blame.
She loves so much, but his love drew him far from her reach. Eternally grieving, lost to life.
He loved her once, and she loves him still, but in his madness he killed something vital to her.
Flowers floating in water,
Petals against dark hair.
He doesn't go to her funeral, doesn't even know that his lover is dead.
It's been awhile since I've read Shakespeare, but the first part vaguely alludes to Midsummer Night's Dream. The second to Romeo and Juliet. And the third to Hamlet.