Beauty was a Metaphor

If only you had told me about that spell that was cast on you,

I never would have gone into the woods alone.

So many years ago, when we met on the street lit precipice, and the sun threatened to rise and wake me from that dream, you opened your mouth i hoped to kiss me or whisper something in another language that would turn my blood to honey, but only wild flowers and bramble thorns spilled out. A nectar scented waterfall of a dozen prairies fell onto the floor and pinned themselves into a chariot you wouldn't tell me what was for. You only led me to the bench and then swooped down upon us a hundred bats and moths of distant moons to fly us to that lonely castle in Germany you tried to show me in every dream i've ever had since i was five. Chased by the rising sun we rode to the safety of the Black Forest, your fur shining softly in the orange glow of dawn, sweeping across your face in wisps and tendrils that smelled faintly of cardamom and chamomile and black currant blossoms. Even your fangs, your little tusks, were a faded gold that sparkled so. And your beast's paws, twice the size of my woman's hands, and twice as soft despite their hidden claws, felt like the only thing i should ever need to wear when pressed against you. Oh if only you’d told me about that spell that was cast upon you!

I never would have left without you.

I never would have gone into the woods alone.

Why did you have to give your last lone days to Beauty?
She only loved you because she thought you were a prince,

Whereas i loved you because i knew you weren't.