There is this box, the colour of heartache, containing bitter sea of unsaid words, of untold stories, beasts so long awake they don't remember who they were no more.
Those ancient legends stick to palms like tar and tread as carefully as cats on hot tin roof. No matter how I run, however far, I can't hunt down something so aloof.
If mermaid trades her tail for pair of legs in name of love, whatever it may be - pray, hear me, the lonely soul who begs to let her sip a song from poet's sea.