i wonder what those men would think
if they saw me curled at your feet-
those men whose blood i've tasted,
whose breaths i've stolen
with the sweep of a blade and flash of teeth.
i wonder if they would see a wolf
playing at devoted domesticity.

or, like you,
would they see that i wear fangs that are not my own?
i was not born with these claws,
but for you i would fashion my very bones into weapons
if i could only sit here beside you a while longer.

you can't kill the monster-
you love him too much.

maybe that's why you're still alive:
he loves you too much.

is he more man than beast,
or more beast than man?
does it even matter?
you've seen the man in the beast
and the beast in the man;
and you know you can love them both.
you already do.

i am willing to be the villain in their stories
if it means i am a hero in yours.
i hope their tales never reach you,
that i remain your shining knight,
that i do not become the dragon.

you would have the world
mistake you for your robots,
hardened and resolute
if you could,
but you can't.
metal does not cry for warmth
as your skin demands touch.
you do not break, bend, or rust as iron:
you tear, fracture, and bleed,
repaired not by welding torch
but gentle hand.

steel yourself,
my boy:
you are human.
you were made to want.

once upon a time, love wasn't enough.
for the beast slumbering, belle kissed his brows,
his nose, his lips - and still he did not rouse.
once upon a time, the dragon ate the prince,
and the sleeping beauty wasted away,
forever forgotten to time and decay.
once upon a time, ariel never found her voice,
and alone she passed the rest of her youth,
because erik never did learn the truth.

once upon a time, your kiss did not wake the life in him.
once upon a time, you lost the fight with his many demons.
once upon a time, you wanted to tell him and your lips failed.

once upon a time, you wished it were a fairytale.

they promised the purpose
that you sought,
to give your shackles meaning
and your bowed head worth.

but black powder was made to burn
at another's hands,
and so were you.

it was never your choice.

it is not you those people fear,
but the leash,
the collar,
and what you will do for them.

these hands are a cruel man's,
and i am afraid to touch you with them,
afraid that by habit they might close
around your neck
and squeeze
until my gun-calloused fingers break
and your eyes never tempt me again.

my violence stains every kiss,
and i could no more be rid of it
than i could be rid of you.

i cannot be gentle
because i am not gentle.
but i want to be.

are you the faithful son,
or the disloyal brother?
whose blood did you spill:
the dangerous outcast's,
or the wide-eyed boy's?

do you credit your kill,
or do you honor his life?
which do you regret most:
that he did not fall in place,
or that you landed a fatal blow?
do you even know anymore?
can you distinguish between
your duty and your burden?

no, you cannot.
it's why you're here in the first place.

you have stars in your eyes,
but you can't find your place among them.

i am not afraid you will see me as i see myself.
i am afraid i will see you for who they say you are,
that i will believe the stories.
i am afraid what i believe is a lie,
and i am terrified of how easily i give myself to it.

you cannot retire from yourself.
you will always be their soldier
and a weapon besides.

you can't remember a time
before you were more than smoke and mirrors,
when you knew truth was truth,
and a liar a liar.

a bit of advice:
when building a maze,
do not work from the outside-in,
although i know it's too late in coming;
you've already lost yourself.