The crime of loving

I was burned at the stake, for the crime of love.

The fire set and ablazed, slowly ate away my legs.

In the crowd the pearly tears of my little dove.

He cried loudly to the gods his religious begs.

The flame consumed my flesh, my body it destroyed,

but in my mind only thoughts of his golden hair.

As the dragon awoke from the ashes he devoured,

sparkling emeralds saw me blackened with despair.

And the beast took my hands wich I use to caress

his fair face while my eternal devotion I confess.

It melted after my bloody nose wich I use to inhale

his chamomile scent while I recite a dear old tale.

My skin incinerated I no longer felt infernally hot.

As I closed my eyes and death screamed a gunshot,

my soul left the earth in a dark cloud of ash and smoke

and quickly dissipated the poor horrified townsfolk.

I regained my vision and I saw a familiar smile.

Meadows of poppies and bliss in our graceful aisle.

With us died the hurt, the hate and the sadness.

In death only love, content and absolute happiness.