A shriek. Her song.
The way she sways as her mouth opens ever so slightly to release its cursed vocals.
A familiar tune, I used to hum.
In the tub, while looking at the crumbling roof.
Always whispered, never spoken loud.
Always shy, never proud.
Soaked in the water's silky grasps, floating.
Sinking.
Drowning.
In her gentle embrace.
Tempting, tempting.
It's cold.
She's warm.
No air, no heart.