My body aches for you
in languages unknown;
with words and whispers
unspoken, you sing me home.

Siren, Siren, tell me now,
am I your favorite martyr?
Will you in future times, mention me,
Poseidon's wayward daughter?

I shall jump into your waters
and you can drown me slowly -
slowly, as the dawning sun rises,
casting a glow over my dying body.

Let my hands recite for you
all the things my lips dare not utter;
let my body be the papyrus
and let the ink be marked with each shiver.

Let me show you
what poetry you inspire
with my burning lips,
my drowning fire.