She wished she could cry.
But Sirens have no tears.
The echo of the waves, the echo of her life, the echo of her love- empty.
The bright sparkle and glitter of gold and jewels lying upon wet rocks was cold- her limbs were cold, her voice was cold, her heart was cold.
The familiar feeling of the cool blue sea washing over her legs- washing away her hope, washing away her love, washing away her soul.
She was empty, anger was gone, the burn and ache in her chest had gone, leaving a numb, hollow void. Even despair had deserted her.
She keened in grief, immeasurably sad, her song filled the empty air, an empty echo of loss, haunting in its terrible beauty.
She remembered how the warm sun had shone upon her skin-
She remembered how beautiful his bright eyes- human eyes- were
She remembered how the touch of his hand felt- hot, alive
She wished her blood were red, red for passion, red for warmth
She wished she would bleed red
She wished her heart would bleed red
She wished of her broken heart, red blood would spill
Her tears, if cried, would be drops of rain
Drops of rain fall cold and blue into the vast, lonely sea
The cold sea
Detached, drops would only be swallowed up by the great blue water
If her heart broke, it would only become part of the waves
Devoured, to make no ripple
In the cold, empty sea
She remembered how he held her
She remembered feeling warm
She remembered his smile, his smile for her
But he was dead. He'd chosen another
She was dead, dying, rotting away inside
Hollow, an empty shell of shadow and decay
She looked up into the cold blue water—empty
She looked up into the open, pale blue sky- empty
She looked upon her shining treasures- empty
She looked into a mirror before flinging it away- empty
She looked into the reflective sheen of a knife- empty
Life was empty.
She didn't even feel the pain.
She pulled back the dagger.
It was blue.
She felt a single tear roll down her cheek.
It was blue.
She didn't see it hit the water, and be swallowed up by the cold, blue sea.