enchant and entrap

“if there was something derogatory about calling someone a Siren, I would undoubtedly refer to you as one”

A cross between a siren, a shapeshifter and Aphrodite. She looks into you, what you yearn to see, then she becomes it; and it is that form she uses to sing. She is terrifying.

Glory.
Sprawled upon the deck, lilac satin upon skin, crinkled;
The forgotten wax does not plague her.
She is a free woman,
But she’s always loathed the water.

Dulcet.
Honeyed voices, quivering eardrums,
Intoxicated.
Hammer, anvil, stirrup weep.
The sounds are so devastatingly sweet,
and she’s always been an auditory learner.

Besotted.
She feels the maddening rush,
The strumming of her heartstrings, seasoned fingers.
A faint blush over gaunt cheeks.
The lilting voice, the warmth, the glory-

Rationale.
The ship touches the isle.
The movement ceases to be, the voice does not.
She meets the siren’s downturned eyes,
The watersong dwindles.

She does it so effortlessly, she’s like mercury. The moment she meets the warmth of your being she melts and molds. But then, Mercury is toxic, and in all likelihood, so is she.