She waits on jagged rocks
where the moon spills silver secrets,
tracing her silhouette with ocean’s longing.
Lips painted the color of storm-tossed roses,
eyes glistening like shipwrecked treasure—
they can’t help but follow her call.

Her voice, a velvet blade,
cuts through salt and sea mist,
weaving dreams of warmth in the midnight chill.
They taste honey in her whispers,
feel fire in the curve of her smile,
but can’t see the darkness pooled beneath.

She hums a tune that curls like fingers
around their hearts,
pulling them closer, closer still—
to the edge where the world crumbles,
where she blooms sharp and deadly.
They reach for her, breathless,
craving salvation in her kiss.

But she cradles their heavy hands
like gifts from the waves,
drapes their final sighs across her skin.
They sink—quiet, wanting—
to rest among the bones of those
who once believed in beauty.

And she sings on,
a siren unbroken,
lips curved with knowing
for the next sailor lost.