Skin Deep: A Beauty and the Beast poem
"Who could love a beast?" he asks.
"Who could love a beast?" she thinks.
He avoids looking in mirrors, going so far as covering any reflective surfaces.
She hurries past the mirror, not sparing a glance for the features shown.
He curses his looks: the fur, the horns.
He can't even pretend to be human;
Just a monster who used to play at being human.
She curses her looks: the shiny hair, the clear skin.
She doesn't even feel human;
Just a doll for people to play with as they like.
He can't see past the outer layer – as each day passes he becomes more the monster.
She sees the outer layer for what it is – a façade, a way to mask the monster within.
He sees a man and woman embrace – just another couple in love.
He turns away; he'll never have that companionship.
She sees a man and woman embrace –his grip restraining rather than drawing close.
She turns away; she'll never let that happen to her again.
"Who could love a monster?" he asks again.
"You're not a monster," she replies,
Her mind on the monsters that hide behind human masks.