AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, I'm aware that in the play Romeo doesn't slit his wrists, it's what you call gory artist license. Also, this is just me having fun, I know I can't outdo the great Shakespeare himself.
And I woke to what can only be said my worst fears realised. My love was dead, his limp, lifeless corpse lay beside me in this darkened hall. I felt his sticky blood beneath my fingers and I saw the huge gouges across his wrists. He had entirely severed his arteries, and the liquid which was powered by his once strong beating heart now stained the bed I lay upon. My comatose condition had been mistaked for death, true, but by my love as well as those I wished to deceive? This unfair mistake struck me powerfully in the gut. Why? How had the message of my plan not reached him, how had he, like all those others I sought to escape, fallen for my trickery?
"How long have you lain beside me love?" I whispered in his unhearing ear. I lay my hand on his cold, pale chest to feel his unbeating heart. "How did you come to hear of this my darling? Why not in the way planned?" A cruel twist of fate this unexpected death. I saw the blade beside him, a shining arc of crusted blood in the darkened room. My hand reached for it and grasped the handle with a strong grip. A living grip. The fingers of my other hand ran gently down the blade, dislodging the dried blood which stained it.
"Oh god, this is too cruel." My whisper echoed around the cold, stone monument, a house for the dead. But I, I was not dead, yet here my love lay, cold as the stone which entombed us.
"Shall I join you my love? Should I enter also into the misty purgatory of those who take their own life?" I asked his unanswering body, his unyielding lips and tongue. My fingers touched the cold, stiffening flesh of his lips and cheeks. "Will I ever find love again? Can I bear to love another who does not have your touch? Who is devoid of your smell, your taste, and your soul? No. No. But can I die? Have I the strength of will and the passion of love needed to physically end my life?" In response to this question I lifted the shining blade above me, watching crusted flakes of blood float down.
"Life could not be life, without you beside me." I rammed the knife down, into my stomach, I pulled it out once more, numbing, searing pain screaming through me. I swiftly stabbed it into my heart before I lost the strength of will to do so. As the pain overwhelmed me, and the world faded into darkness, I laid my head upon his chest.
And I whispered.
"I love you."