Why, Esme, Why? Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Esme, why pluck eyelids
When you can have the plush hairs
Of the Sunshine’s crowned head?

Esme, why put a thick shroud of lipstick
When you can have the tangerine hue
That is painted across the twilight?

Esme, why guise blemishes with mascara,
When you can tell me, underneath the petite stars
And immense skyline that you are blemished and I don’t care?

Esme, why moisturize your skin,
When you have a lithe soul that is softer
Than a skin synthetically appraised?

Esme, why wear contact lenses of mauve,
Green, even monochrome ones,
When there’s a city of gyrating colors inside your eyes?

Esme, why repulse in between waves,
When I know too well that you are a flawed ocean
Of perfection – I am willing to swim beneath your currents!

Esme, why do you grunt in discontent
Athwart the dining table? Perhaps all of me
Can never assuage your finicky soul.