kiranpark

United States

국산 바나나
wasian
ur out of my league <3333

Message to Readers

and i have been under for so long, too long, so that i feel the sigh of feathered wings against my cheeks-- but o siren, i believe there is no heaven but this.

requiem op. 48: in paradisum

November 21, 2020

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4
o siren, ever-evasive daydream of mine,
the rise and fall of the tides always recede back to the ocean in the end, and so falls my mind back to you. so now, when i go to the beach, i sit on the rocks and watch for movement through the water, imagining shadows to have the aureate shine of your hair or the graceful curve of your neck. the sharpness of the memory of your hands dragging me to the deep is blurred and dulled in a haze of shimmering nostalgia-- but still, it is a nostalgia so real and raw that it burns more than desperate lungs filled with water, more than the crescent moons your nails dug into my wrists. after all, how can i heed the danger when it looks like you?

o siren, angel of the sea,
my mother warned me to stay away from you. when i was a child, i would tug at her hand and we’d run down to the beach, letting the salt settle on our clothes and our tongues and tinge our eyes with tears. we’d turn cartwheels on the sand and chase each other into the tide and let it nip at our ankles. on one such outing, as our laughter finally blended into the sound of the waves and faded out to background noise, i ran deeper into the surf as she stood on the shore. she watched the waves dance around me as i raised my hands to the sky, trying to catch the great stretch of blue with my tiny kid fingers. she called out to me then-- “don’t go too far out into the water. the sirens lurk out there. and if they pull you under, you might not come back up-- they’re shifty creatures.” i turned and stared back at her, my face set and solemn in a childish imitation of seriousness, and nodded. the waves crashed on the shore and the gulls cried and the world spun on, chasing the setting sun. and, dear siren, i raise my eyes up to the sun now, watery and pale through the curtain of ocean over my head, and i think of my mother’s words. “if they pull you under, you might not come back up.” is she watching me now as you spirit me away to your kingdom of ink and night and ocean? does she see how i do not fight, do not struggle? well that, mama, is the curse of the sirens. i do not know if i want to come back up.

o siren, temptress of the deep, 
if this is the last breath i breathe, i wish for it to break the world in half-- i want a tempestuous ocean roiling under a raging sanguine sky, for the mountains to wail and the trees to shatter and the stars to plummet to earth. when i go, i want to pull the planet down with me. 
a wish made in the last moments of a life carries the weight of every moment passed.
and this is mine.
oh, sweet siren, do you laugh to know that you held it all in the palm of your hand? or do you shed opalescent tears for the realization that with just a flutter of your butterfly lashes or a brush of your golden hair across a hand, you can turn me to nothing but another water lily adorning your shining tresses? for, after all, if there is one thing i have learned in this damned life of mine, it is that even in death, we are insignificant.
hmmm anyone ask for a dark/fantastical siren and y/n fanfic?

all jokes aside, this was like an extension/continuation/style change of a poem i wrote a little while ago. enjoy lol.

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  • November 21, 2020 - 9:53pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Anne Blackwood

    My gosh your diction and ethereal vibes never fail to astonish me.


    6 days ago