Her cupids bow dips to her bottom lip, drawn constantly, words seldom loosed. I tease laughter from her with my foolishness, and every time her mouth opens another of love’s arrows is fired at me, and if I am a soldier, I am one who so longs to be struck down, I am one who would never raise a shield against her.
—Diary of a Siren
I thought I’d miss my pinky finger more dearly but I can’t seem to manage it. The way her eyes lit up as her teeth dug just beneath my knuckle, I’m tempted to let her eat something else.
—Diary of a Siren
Scales painted like fingernails in an array of cobalts, blacks, and periwinkles danced around me in reflections and refractions in the crystal clear water. She circled me, playing with me, I thought. Though I know now she was playing with the sun, and I was a lowly witness, only in the way of her serenity. I didn’t intend to startle her when we met eyes, it just sort of happened that way.
She tastes of blood and salt, the siren I kiss on the rocks. I do not know whose blood I taste, but I do not care.
-Diary of a Siren
A mermaid is born when a heart is buried, deep in the trenches of the blue sea. A mermaid coveting motherhood need only snatch a sailor’s heart and offer it to the seabed, and within hours, her baby girl will rise from the sand and into her arms. What happens, though, when a mermaid steals the heart of another mermaid? How will the others forgive a murder, even if it is done out of love?
-Diary of a Siren