If You Ought To Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

This I tell you:
Do if you ought to,
Do if you must!
Tell her that the dust of the stars,
Silken, elated, and arrogant
Cascade on her skin like the gentle waves
Of the star-laced sea,
And there, she will tell you:
Are you my pale, ashen, young lover?

Wear a tall fedora if you must,
And arrive with such sartorial fancy!
Your face of plush contour
Will tell her of the symmetries of fairness,
Every gesture will narrate your aesthetics,
And there, she will ask you:
Man of refinement, are you mine lover?

Tell her of your untailored tales.
Spend the moon beams unmarred with touch
Under the splendor of chandeliers and buoyant conversations
Tell her your misfortunes, tell her your losses!
And even there, she will ease you like the tempests of autumn
Whilst telling you:
Hapless man, we shall dine tonight!

Make the utensils clatter until
The cadence is that of the orchestra of seraphs
That carry the wind and scatter it across the vast oceans
Of her porcelain integument and silken curves!
Marvel at her, tell her that she is the replica
Of the heavens in the truest form of beauty
With such flattery, such sincere chauvinism
She will tell you:
I refuse to believe, but for you, I gladly will!

Dance with her, under the forked moon light
And the effulgence of her trampling feet,
Her restive, deity hands and supple physique,
Will all conspire to ignite both your souls,
Tethered to the opus of the harmony
Memorize everything about her!
The luster of her eyes, the rasp of her voice,
Her hesitation in making her pair of blue, halcyon eyes
Meet yours, and how she was dazed into this moment
And narrate them all to her, as if reciting
One of your majestic moments in this ephemeral verve,
And there she will tell you:
I must have you!

And when she is reticent, do not fear!
Continue to vie her warfare of stunning dispute.
Watch her lips make out the words,
In a solace of gestures and motions,
Memorize, I tell you, commit her to memory,
And then, she will tell you:
My reticence! Non-sequitur to your boisterous passion!

Doubt her, but only for a minute
To doubt is tedious! Believe her,
Even if she inflates her self with poise
For when you believe her – in this carnival of deception,
She will find you worthy of her pale hands
And there, she will clasp hers unto yours
Whilst saying:
Stay, like the verve I found in your voice!

Live for her, in everyday,
And she will find that you are not just
A man of golden strut and silvery finesse!
Let her know that she is the fountain that ushers
Like the abundance of sun streaks at dawn.
Die for her, in each way,
For in this poorly sculpted allegory of life
We only have one, immutable fate: and that is we all die
Let her feel, in the impending doom
That she is not one of those bound with one conclusion
That one faces demise alone.
Prove her wrong, and she will not say anything.
She will only rest her head upon your chest
Undulating with life and death.
She will not say anything.
And you need no prolix words to soothe the turbulence.
Only, breathe as if,
Each breath is the last.
This I tell you,
Do if you ought to,
Do if you must.
Love her like the last scent
Of dew upon the Earth.