Siren of the Land

blue eyes, deep and dazzling as the sea cheekbones sharper than a knife golden hair, soft to run a hand through he was a jewel a sapphire prince who, upon circumstances unknown stumbled into a peasant girl more beautiful than the purest snow luscious locks of night doe-eyes, an innocent river of beauty curves like winding paths she was timid and kind and a creature of wonder and in a world of fake gold and silver, the boy craved a diamond she acted as though she had never known a mirror as if her reflection was dirt but she knew the dagger she carried within the pocket of her dress, and she knew her beauty was a weapon one to wield with preciseness so she gave him a smile, pretending she had not tripped him on purpose walking as though she knew not the feeling of a male’s gaze following her she was not a majestic woman, but a spider entrapping men in her silken web for if she could not love herself she must make a million hearts crave her instead she wore her wiles like a gown hid her seductiveness behind her midnight curls and though she told herself it was not for her that the boys always only happened to admire her with their own will she knew what she had done and would continue to do and she felt no remorse maybe Arachne would be proud of her serpentine ways adoration is a venom to clutch to one’s chest only the side effects of mithridatism, she tells herself she walks hand in hand with heartbreak as if it is her truest lover and such as a siren, sends her victims, with her serene song, to a watery grave she stole their hearts from within their chests until they numbed her own drowned out her sorrow with their pain