The Sirens are calling to me,
My weakness for beauty pulls me in.
Let their voices swim
around my deep imagination.
Don't resist the call
of desperation, of beginnings.
This will be the last time
I give my heart to someone else,
so far gone am I in love,
with passion,
so kept in the clutches of another
that I cannot escape.
for, why would I desire?
She who has pulled me in
with nothing more than a look,
My siren of sight breathes life at last.
Her gentle eyes cure my nightmares
and lift the feeling of loss.
Why would I detest the chance
to be swallowed by her love,
to bask in her everlasting patience
and constant trust?
Why would I not wish
to give her all I have to give,
to mend my shards of broken heart
and hand the whole to her,
as she has done for me?
Why should I not desire to save her,
as she has already saved me?