HER

From the aching lungs of a mermaid, from her bruised, purple mouth, a melancholy song arose, matching in tone the greying skies. An angry ocean swirled her in time, and sentenced her to this-to forever witness her lover pass her by, and so tragically did he die, on the ship of his men, he never found peace. He was a walking dead man. He was a ghost in flesh. All her warnings were for naught, he heard her but could not stop the crash on the rocks that took his life ever and anon. She sung until her throat went dry, bleeding with terrible effects; she was caught in a current, struggling against it. But He remained a living echo, a ghost, he did not know where he was going anymore. The sea god of the ocean had claimed him as her own, using his soul to torture the fair mermaid girl. Always in reach, she could never save him. Always within arm's reach, she could never stroke his cheek again.