The Perfect Creature

Your violet eyes are pale in the misty light of moon
The watery lantern casts sweet halos
About your shining hair,
Pearly prisms sparkling around your raven crown,
The dim pallor of many stars
Dusts the skin above your delicate bones,
The taunting shades of silvery dusk
Reflect upon thy brow,
Thy charming and sinister brow.
Most queenly, shadowy creature,
Glance upon my tattered form inconspicuously,
Your dark lashes assume the lusciousness
Of black butterfly wings,
Fluttering around the light
Of those sugar covered, bruise colored irises.
Your lips shimmer with the pallid pink hue
Of reddish planets of far off distances
Through murky, yet milky, evening skies.
Your fairy flesh glows
Like the clouds of ghosts,
The sheen of your graceful fingertips
Gleams like the dew that weighs down
The satiny petals of tomb lilies,
The tint of tombstones gently saturates the hollows
Of your unblushed cheeks.
Your eternal beauty makes seraphim weep
Bitter tears of envy,
All angels grow weak in your wake
And inquire with great sorrow
Why they were not created in your image.
You smell of the winter's coldest chill,
Your kisses are laced with frost
And sealed with the quiet promise of death.
The scent of your icy breath
Is that of frozen roses
And your voice sounds of a somber violin
Lonesomely playing in an empty hall.
Your speech is fraught with sincere heartache,
The melancholy that hangs onto your every word
Lulls me to my darkest dreams,
I long for your shadows
To revolve around me
Your eerie image haunts my feverish sleep
Your empty heart
Is my empty grave.