This is just my version of the finale of Romeo and Juliet from the lady's point of view.

Juliet took the draught the friar had given her and closed her eyes, knowing the next time they opened she would be with her beloved. The anticipation was so overwhelming she was sure she would never fall asleep, but the small drink brought everything the friar had promised her, and soon she slept the sleep of the dead.

The knowledge of a reunion with her beloved husband should have brought dreams of a home, her own family, and a life they could say was their own and not consumed by the feud that plagued the lovers and forced them to marry in secret. Her mind, instead, conjured images of sorrow, of unparalleled suffering. Dreams of children ripped from a loving mother's bosom, of brother separated forever from brother, of death, and of disease. Worse than all these, were the dreams of unrequited love, the idea that she would awaken and her Romeo would not have come for her as she had been promised. While a lifeless body lay in the ancient tomb of the Capulets, Juliet's mind gave her no peace waiting for the appointed time to see if all her dreams would come true, or if the nightmares would prevail.

As if lightning had struck, Juliet awoke with a start to see that her dreams lay right before her. Her love had come! He was there just as promised, but as she began to speak to Romeo and try to embrace him, she realized there was something worse than her nightmares. Yes, he was there, but to her horror, he was not moving. Frantically, she climbed down from her mantle and knelt beside her love. She shook him and screamed for him to awaken but all to no avail. Her Romeo was dead. Through her tears she noticed he seemed to be holding something, praying for an explanation she pried a small vial out of his still-warm hand, squeezing tightly, praying that maybe if he felt her, he would come back and she could feel more of his touch. As she opened her own palm and looked at what he had been clutching, she knew there was nothing more to be done. It was poison. He had taken the whole bottle and now she was left there, alone.

As she knelt there next to Romeo's lifeless body crying out for relief from the pain of losing her love, a light caught her eye. Turning to see what had momentarily distracted her, she realized it was Romeo's dagger. Feeling her heart pounding, she reached for the weapon and examined it closely. It was a small dagger, with the Montague crest on the hilt. She turned the thing over and over, as if she were inspecting it. Juliet suddenly realized her only means of escape from the pain of her broken heart was there in her hands. She took in a deep breath, tightened her fingers around the hilt, and took one last minute to reflect on all the events leading up to this moment in her life. Even though this is the way her story was ending, Juliet knew she would never trade the precious few moments they had shared for one hundred lifetimes without him. She steeled herself for what she was about to do, and in that moment before she buried the dagger in its final resting place, she felt like her mind was truly at peace for the first time in three long days. For even death could never part Juliet from her Romeo.