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I had become accustomed to the monstrous features beneath his surface -

The claws that grasped my hands;

The cold lips that touched mine;

The fire that burned in his eyes.

And all the while, my hands bled from the flowers he gave me

For I did not notice the thorns.


Still, I loved him for the lamb he once was.

Before the full-moon shined,

Before blood was spilled,

And before he gave way to the demons,

He was a gentle man.


While others held pitch forks,

With fiery wrath in their voices,

Screeching verses of his malformation,

I closed my eyes

And whispered the voices away.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.


Though when I opened my eyes,

I still saw fragments of the beast.

He sat with a drink in his hand -

The same drink that poisoned him,

His eyes were bloodshot,

And his distant stare haunted me.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.


But in that moment,

I saw my own face -

Through the reflection in his bottle,

And through the remnants of shattered glass on the floor.

Slashes from the beast lined my forehead,

Though the blood was washed away by tears.

I love you.

I love you.

And because I love you,

I must let the monster go.



This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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