But who could blame Beauty, when beasts are just so easy to love?

“Petals”

I fell in love with
a man
with no heart–
a beast,
backwards:
trapped in his human form.
I gawked,
“Enchanted!”
while he smiled,
“Cursed.”

At eighteen,
I gave him my heart:
my slow march down the aisle,
my first child,
the celebration of my first promotion,
the purchase of my first house,
the pillow next to me at night,
my “over the hill” party,
the old rocking chair next to mine–
all just red rose petals that fell
while I sang to the chorus of
“Something There That Wasn’t There Before,”
and he led the choir.

But he had no heart
to swoon over the tune.
So at nineteen,
he took mine,
ate it whole;
broke his curse,
and then I could see him:
the beast,
heartless,
pretending to be a man.

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4 thoughts on “But who could blame Beauty, when beasts are just so easy to love?

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