Siren Poetry

"Passion's voice lies on the tongue, but the lips are Passion's siren."

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.
Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Red Tooth Brush

Life is pretty simple.
Get up.
Take a deep breath.
Take a shower.
Breathe again.
Heart beats.
He goes to brush his teeth,
fingers slip against the bristles
of her red tooth brush.
Hand falls flat on the
bathroom sink.
Heart falls flat on the bathroom sink.
It’s been 11 months.
In two more, it would have been 46
years.
He wishes stopping the tears was as
easy as twisting shut the bathroom
faucet.
She used to shut it every time
she brushed her teeth.
Didn’t want to waste water.
Always felt the need to conserve
precious things.
He wonders why he never threw it out.
Thinks he’s never stopped wanting
to crawl behind her tongue and taste
every beautiful thing she ever said before it could escape.
Needs to keep these meaningless something’s around
because they knew her insides almost as intimately as he did.

They collided softly and simply.
Paths cross so rarely at the perfect time,
but she was perfect
in the most destructive, clumsy way.
Proud and unwilling to admit her flaws
to anyone but him, but by then it didn’t matter.
He remembers the moment her eyes were no longer eyes,
but so suddenly shifted into the oceans
he hoped he’d find himself drowning in.
He remembers lying his fingertips on her lips that one time on the side of the street when there was no one watching because he needed to feel something soft for once.
He remembers her lips.
He remembers lying his hand on her swollen belly the first time, and the second time and the third.
He remembers how he never thought his heart could be molten iron cages,
melted down and created into a home where all these perfect creatures felt safe,
but no one more than him.
He remembers her fading.

He remembers her watercolors dripping from her face.
He remembers her rib cage clawing it’s way from her skin like it was trying to let her insides escape.
He wishes he could remember what her voice sounded like before it was feather whispered silence in final breaths,
but that’s all he can hear anymore.

He turns the faucet on.
He does not close it.
He knows
there is nothing precious left.

a.e.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

Original poetry by Autumn Echo.

-Autumn Echo, Siren Poetry

-Autumn Echo, Siren Poetry