Nine Days

A man of the land believes he is failing in love with a mermaid.

Day One

When you came into my life, you were all dawned in white. A dress that reflected the innocent color, baring your purity. Unfortunately, there are little rips bigger than they appear. Around the edges, lacing trims along the seam. The act of innocence wiped away from your angel-like face. I get to hear you speak. I do not want you to stop. Time quickens. I still attempt to pull you away and hear your voice continue. The timer goes off. Moments later, I am hovering over your body. It is sweet that I hear the same laugh as before. I do not scare you. I do not know you. I will not see you again, yet it is contradictory. There is something special about you. The mere thought of your presence coexists with mine.

I may not know when I will see you again, but I am enthusiastic about the next meeting.

Day Two

I was right. I want to know you more now than ever. That something special dawns over me when you strike me with a look. Our eyes meet, and your eyes are softer. Your energy beams into me. I think you want me, but I have to ignore that. It is blunt that your work needs to be done, not mine. I would take charge if I could. We are not alone, but it still feels intimate. Your aura is strong. It allures me. It makes me believe you are a siren. I hope you can find me when you come back to the surface. You are still sunken deep in the waves. Even if confidence radiates from you, a strange creative reflection provokes me when I see you. Similar thoughts come to mind when you speak of strange notions. It is cute. I do have to remind you of the consequences of what it is like to be a siren.

Day Three

You lure in the shallow shores near me. Even on the nights of a full moon, I see you lurk. You sing a song of romance that captivates a nearby lover. Although I vowed not to commence with you, your mind games are fun. Let us play chess. I like your eyes. Not because they are colorful. There is a fondness for how deep they are. It reflects a story I want to hear. The little wrinkles around them say something about the way you age. Youthful grins that will be deep sunken lines as the years go by. It is a sign of happiness that makes everything about you more beautiful as time goes by.

Day Four

Your name speaks itself into existence. I remember the peculiar statements you spoke of when we first met. We always end up alone around thousands. They peer through, possibly reading each move we make on each other. Your movements are hard to recognize. There is something strange about you. I cannot understand any of it. As we exchange letters back and forth, it dawns on me that you will be around. Your song is captivatingly written and spoken.

Day Five

Your song is otherworldly. It plunges me deep into the waters not knowing where I will go. The pressure of the waves is smooth and not chaotic. For the creature you are, there is a docile presence as you swim us down to your home. I wonder if this will kill me. It does not. Unlike your kind, I am used to an assumption of just what the sirens are. I am only purely a man of the land. Taught to be sufficient and secure, yet what lurks behind is a creature of other words. It dawns on me.

Unsure if the siren has a kingdom it belongs to. I am realizing you are not a siren. You are a mermaid. A similar folk creature that lives beyond the depths of the trembling sea far from me. Similar, but not the same. It is intriguing. At the moment, I want to learn more about your particular story. You live life not like a little mermaid. You have a voice that sings. A speechless symphony you create.

For years, I yearn for an orchestra that has an angel. In front of me is the subject of beautiful expressionism. Your gracefulness leaves me in awe. It irritates me into desires I am fond of. The look of gratification coming from your face is absolute. Yet, time is a construct. I can not touch the creature of the night for right now. Although you are not a siren, there is a transformation of your body. A glistening shimmer trickles throughout your body. Goosebumps rise as I speak benevolent thoughts to you. There it is, a smile. Not any kind. The provoking kind.

When you gain your legs again, we will do the do of humankind, as I believe our two souls are supposed to collide. After every given speech and reading your microexpressions, there is something you and I are supposed to do. In some ways, you are a little mermaid. There is no voice. It is bewildering. Use it. You are a mermaid, after all. I desire your want to lure me deep and take all directions into a world that is both known and unknown.

Day Six

I do know nothing.

There are things I want to learn. You speak about almost anything your mind comes to. At a short pace, I will desire to give you everything. The knowledge I have acquired about your species has only been unkind. Rather than thinking of the downfalls of humanity that speak rudely about you, there is a better way to befriend the unworldly creature. It is enthralling to hear you express things you could not before. All because of a damn curse. To have no control over your haunting voice makes you both superior and inferior.

We are on the surface, and I see the facial expression of drowning dawn on your fair complexion. I can not save you as it is not my time to be on your side. There is a deep impulse to pull you out and bring you to life. The world we live in is only a pit of depression, and you have to keep the lives you love together. You do save yourself. Thankfully, the sound of a child brings out an odd presence in you. It then causes a reaction that is unrecognizable. A strict motion bluntly moves us to the other side of the room we sit in. Those eyes only seem strangely scared of what is going on around us. To be in your head at that moment would be a delight to understand the logistics surrounding us.

We had sat here before, yet nothing surrounded us. Like any day, time goes on, and the business traction builds up. Before landing in the second round, I forget you do not know how to breathe up here. My suggestion to go sightseeing for a split second allured you. If only I realized it would cause you not to know how to breathe. The pool of water you found in the clearing gave you the expression I like to see on your face–pure bliss. If only I could give these things to you on a daily. The only thing I can do is ponder wild thoughts and give strange directions of what this place we are sightseeing could be. That pure bliss flushes excitement in me. I want to take you here again and serve ourselves to the artistic community. Lie down and be humans together.

No wonder I forgot and know nothing.

Day Seven

Strange statements seep out of that peculiar mouth. The energy you push towards me trickles through and spikes my wounded soul down to dark oblivion. With pleads of hope that you will state your curious mind, all I can ever do is wait. To be patient on both of our ends. Even though you fight back with resilience to strike me down, the time is not now. Unfortunately, your song can no longer curse. Immunity towards your vexing spirit built up during the days we spent together. To be compelled by you is only the beginning of my desires. I do not want to tangle myself into your net that was a dress on the dry land. I know you will be a part of my future, and play amongst the forest that sits near the familiar home you pursue. With the rays of sunshine beaming through to touch the fair flesh, it radiates the beauty of the scales that once lay underneath them. It will cause me to bite my lip and hope these daydreams are a strong sensual sight of attraction. I no longer carry the heavy case of a burden dragging along my shoulders, for when it strikes, heaven carries the ethereal realm of a fish straight out of water. To thrash swiftly, up and down. We inch closer to each other to be unaware of the conspicuous actions of hedonistic urges.

Beyond our impulses towards each other, I can not bear my skin to touch yours until days before we meet again. You indicate such soft remarks about the future and what our minds could easily create. Unfortunately, my days with you are in a definite time crunch. The other woman stands in front of me. I believe she is a succubus. There is that vex in her stare that goes along for miles. For the longest time, it made me ponder such events that could commence forward. Her acts only make me wonder if there is any good in the world. Strangely, she curates a pesking energy. The cry and begs to connect immediately compel me to manipulate the situation. As a man, I could care less for you as the days go further. Your significance in my life trickles down as the succubus gravitates her energy toward me. I only do not know how to save myself. There is only hope that your siren-like spell will catch me the day we all meet.

Would I have ever allowed, if I did not know how to step forward and experience the energy you create towards me?

I may never know, purely because I am a man.

Day Eight

What makes me a man is the power of vulnerability. Beneath the surface, that craving for authenticity crawls out of my pores, and seeks to captivate someone for my courtship. She might have this ultimate commitment about herself that is exotic. Ultimately, the power to overthrow makes a compelling position of solitude—exhilarating. Her promiscuous nature makes me quiver. Intertwining ourselves comes easy for the emotional connection she craves beneath her bones. She wants something more. Unlike you, who banters about the relationship of bonding for the longest time. A flame that flickers under the pure excitement of others, yet I see how it stays afoot when you are around me. If only I could kindle that. I do not think I will fulfill the need for it to stay. In my hands is a snuffer. Remember, mortal enemies can be your closest friends.

We have gained trust in knowing the details of the sea and land. When I ask about the terrors of the depth you come from, you gulp in terror. Information is confidential at that moment as the conversation folds into a simplistic question back about the land. There is hidden knowledge about you I only wish I could undress.

Day Nine

Thoughts provoke me at night. Do you think of me like the way I think of you? At this point in our meetings, I believe God is on our side. You stare at me with such intensity. That same look from the days before. Convinced you will sing me a song with your true voice. Even if you plan never to touch me.

Hope is hard to believe in these days. I linger for desires that are buried deep within your grasp. To be under your skin and feel your mind. The yearning has a light-hearted expression as your scales have only been shedding for a short amount of time.

I do not know how to captivate the succubus. There was someone regular underneath the baring chains of those clothes. Vile creature to tempt, yet the hex works well under my skin. On the contrary, yours will never work.

It only took me nine days. I may want you.