Periwinkle Indigo

February 20, 2011
Swimming up from the depths of blue
a mermaid reaches the shore.
With her hands on land, tail above water,
human she becomes.

Her mother, a wild fisherwoman was she,
had met a handsome merman
--the mermaid’s father--
on a twilight moment like this.

Twilight; that’s her name.
Twilight; the hybrid of the sea.
Twilight; a grey-sun, an outcast.
Twilight; the time of day
that cannot choose between day or night;
an in-between.

Out of water; human,
Under the depths; fish.
Isolated, lonely, secluded.

Neither world’s accept her.
“Freak!” they’ll shout.
She comes up out of the water,
onto the shore of her secret coral reef.

Looking at twilight she thinks
of her mother,
knowing her father would be raged
to find her in the open.
She looks around,
sees a silhouette on her reef.

Bent over. Crying, perhaps?
She stands, approaches the unknown thing.
With the remaining light,
she sees a boy; there’s
a pale caramel, sandy color to his skin.
Blood covers his hands.
His arms cover his body.

Looking deeper, keeping distance,
she sees green eyes that flash red,
a distorted face, sharp, gleaming teeth.
Hair is sprouting from his flesh.

What is he?
Not human.
An outcast? like her?
A grey-sun?

Her hopes rise with possibilities.
The boy looks at her:
a sad soul she sees in his eyes.
He can see it in hers, too.

“A mermaid--” he whispers,
looking away.
“No, a hybrid freak;” Twilight corrects.
“human, mermaid, outcast...” her voice trails off

“Hybrid;” the boy repeats.
“vampire, werewolf, outcast.”
Looks up at her,
“Like me.”

She looks at him with
different eyes now;
“like me.”

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