The pads on his paws
Are rough and cracked,
Bleeding on my hands as we dance.
My dress, it swirls,
Colors of butter and gold
As my feet step lightly beneath.
The music gently enfolds us,
Wrapping us in symphony;
A waltz for only us.
His grizzly face splits in a grin
And I grimace a smile,
Fooling tenderness into my eyes.
His furred hand
Encompasses my waist,
Dwarfing me in his size.
The echo of his past roars
Ring in my ears
As loud as yesterday’s arguments.
He had bared his beastly teeth
Malice on full display
Threatening me by his very presence.
His sudden gentleness
Makes his preceding anger alarming
And I am anxious.
Sorrow fills my heart;
I know what they wish of me
But who could ever love a beast?
the Honest Poet 