My Beast by Emma McCandless

There is beauty in everything.
A butterfly, carefree and lovely,
begins life an ugly worm.
A rosebud, new and dew-covered,
sparkling in the morning sun,
was once a dull brown seed.
Always, ugly gives way to lovely.
So it has been, so it will be.
So it was for me.

Father introduced us,
not under the most pleasant circumstances.
His life at stake, I was the sacrifice.
The castle, for all its gloomy secrets,
still promised to be a home.
But him!
Dark and silent as his lair,
speaking little, smiling less.
And hideous!
Yellow fangs—like daggers,
dull, shaggy fur,
a matted mane about his twisted face,
and two bright eyes blinking out.
The only light about him—his eyes.
But there is beauty in everything.
He called me that, "Beauty,"
and I called him "Beast."
Names that fit, we thought.
I got to know him,
what else could I do?
Only him there with me, in that empty fortress
we called home.
And I changed my mind about our names.
"Beast" didn’t fit him anymore,
and "Beauty" wasn’t for me.
I told him that. I told him,
"I love you," before I knew it was true.
Things changed after that.
He was beautiful because I loved him.
Before I loved him, too, but I didn’t know.