Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Yes

As simple as the whisper of your breath

upon me

I softly sigh ‘yes’…

the only word that comes to mind

when your nearness crowds out

all semblance of composure

and surrender

is what I ache for

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

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Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced


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Lissome thoughts

Lissome thoughts

I hold within my hands

Shape and depth

entreating

further touch

Reflections that evoke

something familiar

yet still unknown

and give voice

to inestimable possibility

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

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Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced


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Fluent

Touch becomes a private language between lovers.

The nuances of touch become known as you learn each other.

I can think of nothing more sublime than this discovery

and how it is put to practice.

Daily.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

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Dad

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Our time together ended much too soon.

You were always there for me,

a strong, silent presence

protecting me

teaching me.

I was the little girl you had dreamed of and wanted for so long.

Your constant shadow when I was small.

I treasure the childhood I had,

the unconditional love and acceptance that helped mould me

into the woman I am today.

The belief in me that helped me see 

that I could do whatever I set my mind to.

But it was when I was an adult

that our relationship really bloomed and flourished.

My growing knowledge and experience

solidifying an already loving relationship with mutual respect.

I miss you every day now that you are gone.

So much of my life you have not shared in,

except in my whispers.

I love you Dad.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

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Photo taken from Pinterest, unsourced.

*More than twenty years gone from this Earth but not a day goes by that I don’t think of him and imagine the conversations we would now have, the grandchildren who only know him by picture and my memories, and how I still, even after all this time, can remember his smile and his hugs and miss him all over again.

Those we love are in our hearts every day but for those we have lost the days that we would have officially celebrated them can be some of the most poignant. Happy Birthday Dad. xoxo


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Fading

I can see the light fading for her.

Imperceptibly, but still diminishing.

She clings to fragments of memory when the present repeatedly slips from her grasp.

Conversations become a loop from minute to minute, with different inflections from me in response to the same words.

I don’t like to think of that light, her light, being gone.

From my life, from the world.

The last several years have been an adjustment. 

The strong, constant light and warmth of my mothers love and support, the bedrock beneath my shifting shoals, has been absent.

Don’t get me wrong, I know she loves me beyond measure, but things are drastically different now. It’s a new normal for both of us. 

She is here, but she is not.

Not in any tangible way, not in the way my heart aches for.

I wish I could say I have handled it with grace, these changes to her. That I have been perfectly patient and understanding.

A paragon of virtue. A good daughter.

But the heart wants what it wants and I have wanted her in the way that I have always known. 

Her, the voice that softened the edges that cut, the embrace that made it better if only for a little while. The soft touch to my cheek and the bolstering words of ‘you’ve got this’.

Instead, I swallow those wants, pushing the jagged pieces back inside, slap a bandage on, and tell her everything is okay.

Even when it isn’t.

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Copyright © SirenSong1208

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Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced.


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He reads her

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He reads her

and wonders…

is it his name written between the lines

Could he be the one,

her eloquent distraction

the frisson along her spine

The fire within her tangled sheets

the heat between her thighs.

 Could he be the one,

the smile that appears when no one is looking,

a secret she keeps close to her

Is it his face that haunts her dreams?

He reads her

and wonders…

and wants it to be so…

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Copyright ©SirenSong1208

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Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced.


9 Comments

Empty

There is silence,

so much silence.

Arms are empty,

as darkness settles upon us.

Days.

Nights.

Opaque.

There is no clarity,

only confusion and a deep sense

of grief.

The dreams I had have died,

long ago perhaps,

but I did not wish to believe it.

But now,

in the wake of things we still cannot comprehend,

there is pain

more loss

and a sense of two

who should be holding each other up

through the crashing waves

but who are adrift on this unknown sea

separately navigating each stormy swell

desperately seeking landfall

and an embrace that tells us

we are home.

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Copyright ©SirenSong1208

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Art by Victor Bauer