the Place Between the Mountains and the Sea

reality

The lonely mermaid, back against a stone,
one that was oh-so mean, for reasons unknown to her,
blew out a breath of air stronger than the winds
that took her there.

Never before seen by eyes other than her own
in a reflection, and even then, every time she'd
close her scarlet eyes, those filled with a sadness
that only existed in reality.

Every ship man with a white cap and an arm tattoo,
couldn't've held his breath with her for more than a minute.
And every time she would believe,
foolishly and innocently (if the two could coexist),
that maybe the next could hold his breath,
and they could swim, hand in hand,
to the depths.

Also never before seen (by her).

Her naivety'd be the blame for the murders she had
committed out of empathetic love of tragic proportions
that only existed in fantasy.

She didn't know what she was.
Was she a monster, or was she a myth?
Was she even real
at all?

She would stare onto the hill of sand,
where the humans, the ones with the legs,
the ones she'd only hear about in fables.
And see them shaking violently and making
audible, toothy noises and holding each other.

And then, sometimes, there'd be a lone human,
and she wished that she could be with him or her,
so that they could share the air just beyond
the damned sea.

She wondered what that tasted like.

But the sea kept them apart,
and the sea kept the heroine
as nothing more than a stunningly monstrous
illusion.

Maybe the place between the mountains
and the sea wasn't so fantastical after all,
maybe that was reserved for
the stargazers and the dreamers --
but the mermaid with the scarlet eyes,
she could see the reality.

And that reality was something that could only be found
in reality.