Masks of Prince Charming Always Crack

Beauty forgave the beast for his aggressive tendencies because of validation.

If it’s any consolation

He loved her.

And she loved him,

Like a moth draw to a flame,

She is not to blame,

Because she was blinded by the task,

Of the fixation on romanticized public perfection,

Yet he wouldn't put down the flask.

He was the only one that would love her.

That would love her body,

And say those three delete all words,

The clear history words,

The “I’m a blank document all is rewritten” words.

The all if forgiven words…

I love you.

‘He didn’t hit her.’

No, that wasn't him,

That was drugs and alcohol when he was sober,

No that was I love you written across her skin,

It darkened her eyes and left her wanting to stay,

To be forgiven,

Maybe she should leave,

Or maybe he’ll change.

Rearrange to make room for her in his heart,

In his hands,

Maybe if she meets his demands,

She will no longer be reprimanded.

Who else is there besides him,

What God,

What self control,

She knows what’s inside and it’s good,

Just like the movies,

She is the beauty and he is the beast,

Her prince is in there under all the fur,

Under all the lies,

She can sympathize,

Recompense for his past,

Be kind and loving and maybe he’ll reciprocate,

Nothing is debate just his wishes,

Maybe he’ll be kind enough to let her see her family,

But if she doesn’t come back he’ll die.

So sure she could go,

But then her true colors would show,

It was beauty that killed the beast.

A policeman names Gaston,

A depute names LaFou,

Came uninvited in her mind,

They killed her beast,

They slayed her prince,

How dare they not see the flowers growing in the cuts on her wrist.

How dare her father call those who don’t understand.

Call those who want to save her.

She didn’t want to be saved.

Now that blood on the carpet isn’t her own... yet it is,

It stains her hands, her skin, her heart.

She is still guilty,

For winning the pity of the innocent.

 

Then she met love.

Love wears a genuine smile and laughs,

With her.

Smelled of perfume instead of liqueur,

Held her hands and not her throat,

Made her want to write love poems instead of suicide notes,

Saying sorry for existing and being thanked because she does.

She exists.

To love she exists.

This love doesn’t have terms and conditions,

She hopes the mortician got rid of all his mask. So when he lies, he’s telling the truth.

Love doesn’t try to hide her, steal her, hurt her.

Love heals her.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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