You were my last chance.
One last dance with a lie,
just to see if I could still do it like I used to,
an attempt to see if the problem was really me,
or if it was all the people I found after you.
I ruined you, a little,
wrecked and never the same,
even when my claws were long gone,
you were driven mad by the mere memory of me.
You call at midnight,
shy, soft tones,
letting the phone ring once, then hanging up,
so I know that you wanted to hear my voice, but didn’t have the strength to resist my siren call.
It doesn’t sound the same these days.
I laze on lonely rocks,
lapped at by the summer sea,
never singing for the boats that barge through calm, cool waters,
because my song is different now,
and can only be heard by my own kind.
I tried so hard to make you hear it.
I tried to take you with me to the ocean floor,
but every time we collapsed beneath the ocean’s depths,
you left my side,
evaporating from my arms and reappearing on the rocks above me.
I danced, down in dark waters,
with a shadow’s hand on my waist,
knowing that there was no going back to where I had wandered off to.