He stirs, washed ashore.
beautiful, with eyes paler than hair
spun of sapphires, reminding the sailor
of maidens and lore.
He struggles,
man from the sea, casting glances
and spots the other, who knows his flesh
could grant immortality.
Stranded but not helpless,
the sea man is more sailor than he.
Twice his size, with claw and fin,
one swing of his tail
could end several men.
The sailor’s gaze, unbroken,
caught in his eyes
scales of emerald and sky,
over a form, curved soft
with plush lips and cheekbones high.
Approaching, with heart heavy,
the sailor raises his knife.
The man from the sea
watches
the end of his life.
The sailor kneels, with a sway,
drops his blade, with forlorn eyes.
Felt his lips, with a kiss
and watched him
swim away.
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