For My Love

You are beautiful.
The gleaming of your white skin carries radiance
matched only by pulsars above.
Though you rarely,
if ever,
express emotion beyond a cold phlegmaticness,
your face yields a delicate roundness.
Dimples as subtle as
the tiniest folds on a blank sheet of paper
embellish your childlike countenance.  

Why do you mock me with the way
you sit sedentary on your throne?
A peculiarly large throne, I add, completely flummoxed.
Maybe you’ve mistaken your voluptuousness
for rotundity.
There are other things proving your beauty.
Such as your caramel hair
tossing and turning around your face,
adorned with hairpins as golden as honeycombs.
With your shining grey scepter befitting a queen,
you synthesize the preciousness
of silver and gold.  

This heat that wells up inside me.
It blazes my heart like it has many summers ago
as I look-
No.
Gaze upon you.
I’ve heard that your beauty
comes from the exotic down under,
but your name is from a dance
nonnative to your land.
Rūaumoko must be inside me, crying.
The heat welled up inside feels like lava under my skin.
Will a taste of your cold, perfect beauty
sooth the wildfires agonizing me?
Just as it has before
for your peons down under,
both local and foreign?  

Let us become one to find out.

Feedback given: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4jo1ow/us_within_the_ground_beneath/d38bf0s https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4jny3d/selfportrait/d38b4rj