Brackish

Mermaids and sirens
Are entities quite near.
From the water and rocks,
And ubiquitous with fear.

To peruse the stories
Is to hear only tall tales.
Of sailors with scars and
Tattoos of morbid scales.

Whistle under the moon,
And the sea reflects stars.
An inky blackness below
The planks, nails, and bars.

If I sing to you, my love
Will you fall under my song?
Or will you be cautioned
That your fate will be wrong?

It's a curse to be chaos
In these lapping cold waves.
I'd rather your warm body.
Instead, I'll roam the bleak caves.