There is always a cost for Beauty.
The honest, outward nature.
A Beast forgoes his pride
For the pearl of priceless
Cost
Integrity is cast aside
Old feelings buried down
To earn the kiss of sacred Beauty
Truth is carefully disguised.
Paint and ruffled feathers
Smoothing creams and
Etiquette.
I wonder who will wonder
If the Beast is not still there?
Waiting under shadowed table.
Lurking in the darkened hall.
The Beast is only biding time
Simmering til he finally
Falls below the Beauty's damning
Standards
And is deemed unworthy after all.
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