The Green Sea

The green sea grows a great deal of moss along the bank,

Watching, waiting for her.

Perfect hair, skin, human skin.

So soft and supple

A goddess among the others

And so pure.

Wearing white lace as if it grows naturally on her skin like moss.

She only ever dips her feet, not wanting the taint

A taint that grows in the moss of the green sea that’s seen so much skin.

But she has only seen her own.

She steps into the lukewarm water

As the sea tangles her delicate ankles with seaweed.

It's a slow drag into the sea

But she is silenced once the green sea's moss covers her mouth;

There’s one last grotesque gurgle before she is consumed.