Twas’ beauty, who stood out like soaring thorns
Chiseling herself inside him, loving all his forms
The fiend’s spread stature, or his skin furrily warmth
Satiated this beaut’s heart and many a storm’s doors.
Twas’ Venus who grabbed in hers his hand, to reach the Heaven
And in these lovely eyes\' reflection, glimmered his expression
Yet, the thorn’s twig doesn’t bend to the snarl of oppression
And so, the beast’s horns would pierce through, howling possession.
Her breath became mist, like her bosom pressed against the dome
Petals falling gracefully, to the bitter kiss of the gentle comb
The marbled plates to the floor became nothing more than stone
How could such ravishing passion not smother, yet lose all its control?
Such a lonely creature would only dare for a companion’s grace
Fatherless, Motherless, wonders the earth looking for a place
A gaze, a face, to where his homeliness could feel for ever embraced
It breathes bounded air in a cupola, what was meant to rest in vase.
Twas’ not the fall from the Heaven, for what he with her smilingly reached
Perhaps his philosophically side, that had lonely and regretful deceased
Twas’ not the constrained love, though played a part, that suddenly released
Twas’ a wish of a melancholic yet loved creature, Twas\' beauty, who killed the beast.