When the Siren Doesn’t Want You to Wreck

Some tides do not crash they whisper.

They do not tear you apart in a single wave.They wait.Patient. Relentless.Drawing you forward, one trembling step at a time.Not with violence, but with longing.

I have met such a tide.I have heard her song.

She lingers where sea meets sand that fragile edge where the earth begins to forget itself, where certainty shifts beneath your feet, where the tide pulls not only at your body, but at your will.

There, where the solid slips,where you can no longer tell if you are standing tall,or already sinking beneath her spell.

Most sirens hunger for the wreck.They sing for splintered wood, salt-choked lungs,the ruin of men who dared to sail too close.Their voices are traps spun from beauty and hunger.They sing to devour.To unmake.To swallow the proud whole beneath the waves.

But not this one.

No her voice is something else entirely.

It winds through the heavy mist, soft and low, carrying not destruction, but invitation. An ache .A promise. A dare.

She does not wish to break me unless we break together.

She hums for the space between us the pull, the ache, the slow orbit that draws us closer with every breath. Not a fall, but a surrender. Not a drowning, but a choice.

Crash, if you must, her voice seems to say. But not alone.

If I fall I will fall into her.

Drown me in your waves...

There is a place here, between sea and sand, between flesh and wave, where the air thickens with want, where every breath becomes a prayer and every step forward is no longer certain.

Here, beneath her gaze, I am unmade not with cruelty, but with knowing.

She does not offer safety. She does not promise salvation.

She offers truth.And a love that is neither gentle nor easy but real.Ruthless in its depth.

There are moments when I imagine turning back reaching for the shore, the dry certainty of what was before.

But then her song coils tighter around my heart soft as a sigh, sharp as a blade.

And I know, there are wrecks worth surviving.There are depths worth reaching.There are tides worth surrendering to even if you never find your way back to shore.

For whether I sink…or surface…whether I shatter or rise her song has already become my own.

And there, in the space between breath and wave ,between ruin and resurrection,I remain half ashore, half hers, already lost, already found.

-Jlinden