Her limp walk. She walked. A cold fish
Left in the soup far too long.
Executing her feet like the mermaid's long tail
Ahead, straight, a death march to the sea.

Unforgettable, the wish she made for you.
It did not punctuate the air.
But you have kept it with you since then.
The type you liked. The type slightly curving her toes inwards.
Drowned her locks to the sound of the siren
In the waters. That was you.

Her crisp black hair barely touching her shoulders. Had touched
                                                                                        you.