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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
Copyright ©
Bella Allen
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