The speaker is addressing someone they once felt deeply understood by. Both of them, the speaker says, were "monsters," and that shared horribleness felt like relief: finally, someone who could see them without flinching. The poem turns when the other person decides the speaker's wildness, the wool and horns, needs taming. What began as recognition becomes an attempt at control.
The speaker's anger is clear in the accusation that the other person wears a "stolen human skin," while the speaker's own beastliness is at least honest. Yet the ending softens that anger. The short line "You ruined what could have been" carries real grief, and the lowercase final line, with its misspelled "eachother," sounds like a quieter, more reflective afterthought. It suggests the speaker wonders whether both of them were at fault, too busy pushing each other away. The mood is bitter, sad, and tender all at once.