A Poet's Death or Encore?

 
If it not be love, please let me die
for it is I, and I alone
who can know
my true feelings, deep within my soul
 
my darling, it is but for you, that I breathe
my wrists could be tied with burning rope
I would resist the flames for your heart
I’m already under your charm filled spell
 
I love you
more than the most magnificent sunset
ever to lay down onto this gracious earth
beams of dusk skidding off waves onto land 
from the ocean so very grand
 
but…
If you were indeed to deny my love
then I shall sleep deeply in an everlasting dream
a poetess forever hoping
to change a broken past into love
for you my darling
I would, I would go to the end of the world
 
now to you” my audience”
here upon you
is your opportunity to laugh loudly…
 
as the great mohair grand drapes fall
dramatically to the floor
I get caught up 
falling most ungraciously ass over tit
entangled both my body and pride
underneath this the main curtain   
 
leaving me rather red faced
 
oh, how, how, how
could I possibly take my bow now?
even William Shakespeare himself
        ...would have died in shame  "again".