Turn violet light
to the direction
of the sea
shattering ships
on ruby-pressed lips.

Sailors are drawn
to pearl white-tower
of sirens singing to
the tune of scratched
nails against
roaring waves
violently crashing
and receding
into a column
of sharpened
shell shards
on shore.

Sailors swim
in burgundy waters
and their cold bones
clatter with the batter
of violet eyes
from the lighthouse
leading seamen
into vulnerable
bodies floating
in the deep end
of violet light.

Sirens scream,
sailors dream
in shades of purple
splashes and ruby lips
locking love
in bruised egos
and salt water
staining eyes
into violet-blue.

Let Violet light
from the light house
shine on the Siren
singing alone
next to burgundy sea
and seamen searching
for a body to need.

Siren, love not in the
shade of violet.


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