Beastly Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

If I ever saw your image,
Past the surface of the green waters
That embody a mirage in the haze of the crestfallen vicissitude
Then I would break that easy, callow as a skin of a child

The resilience of your chestnut brown hair,
And the scent of olives and tulips in a lair
Have transformed me into a monster, whose mouth
Craves for the amaranthine sweetness of your soul

I have married my pain long enough,
Long enough that the Sun renders me marred
Every painstaking day that spins madly into night,
You do not think of me, of that I am sure.

As the clouds pry upon the empty azure,
Your image, resolute upon the penumbra, now a blur
Has considered that upon the patrician highlands
And between the downtrodden alleys, I would still remember you.

Will this be the last of the poetry,
So vapid and dismal that it speaks so much
Of a man whose touch does not inspire mirth anymore
To the ones around him, where are thou ardor?

The scent of a woman, I do not know any woman
Aside from my kin, or lest my mother shall speak of
You have etched memories as deep as plagued bones
Where am I to go, now that you have faded into white light?

Should I asphyxiate the dreamer's neck,
In a fashion in the scriptures where the serpent
Crawls and coils the Tree, summoning the temptation of
The forbidden fruit? Tell me, in both worlds, where am I to prance?

By any chance, would you take me back?
Questions in vain, answers gone to oblivion
As the poets with tongues of tentative and obscure languages
Have said, 'To love is but abrupt, and the pain is long and torturous.'

These words endear me to such pain,
That I have considered it as my wife, my muse
I have nowhere to go in the impasse, feigning opalescence
And the the polemic: Science and Love, where is the tether?

If you are to enthrone
Another man's kingdom and claim him as your king
Then I shall run towards the defenses of your castle
With my arms as steady as barricades, I have one last message

That from the start of your youth,
I have witnessed you grow, like a toothless tulip
And your limbs that grew like vines, entangling me
How can I forget thee, you are intoxicating like champagne on my lips!

The terrible troubled beast that I am,
And the wonderfully dressed queen that you are,
Sitting rightfully beside some cumbersome king with a blind scepter
Used to be kings and queens of our own kingdom, now obsolete

Until then, I shall dance with your long flowing dress,
Without your figure, only an insipid piece of flannel
Fortunately the scent still lingers, almost granting me your presence
After the waltz dies, where are you? What am I.