Every weekend, I take boys to the beach.
At midnight he grabs his keys and drives me to the most serene, yet rocky beach.
The water feels warm, but it makes my touch cold.
I get wet from playful splashing, we were laughing, but I was holding back my feelings.
Not really ready to dive in. Not touching, not even loving,
Just enjoying his time and the gas he spent.
Just for me.

Another week passes, another piece of magic.
Before college and the knowledge I had,
Before I knew what was about to happen:
I'm nearly **** in a two-piece. Pulling and tugging at my assets, Glancing and once more, laughing at our conversations filled with flirting.
Not knowing what I'm wanting.
Second guessing my flaunting.
I'm a siren singing a song of tragedy.
Luring these boys who want to fix me.
He held me close, and didn't want to let go.
His lips touched my neck, my back, my shoulder, but I didn't roll over.
He still held me near for warmth on this cold, cold, sandy beach.

On my last breath, on my last note, I closed my eyes for a time and I just wanted to go.
I was done with love and searching for closure in the ocean’s moisture.
I was done with making promises, hearing them say they love all of this; I was especially done with the lies that they practiced, behind their eyes there was no reflection.
Now all these boys want the ocean.

And that much I notice.

I am a siren and I sing my song until I can no longer breathe oxygen.
That is when the ocean swallows my sorrow for a while when I follow them.
The boys line up, and I catch feelings for one.
He understands my song.
He sang it once.
Drove two hours just to find where it was coming from.

And on that same beach, different waves pushed and pulled that night.
Smiles lit up the dark sky, and we laughed and kissed under the moon’s tide.
Yes, I am a siren.
I am a hypocrite.
I sing to my heart's content, till it's tired, worn out, and I become irritated.
But my love comes from within.
No matter how dark it is, the lighthouse is in him.