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Beware of Her Siren Song: A Poem

Faith Mashevedze | Zimbabwe

For the men who say, “I don’t want to break your heart”

Que evil laugh!

Lover, I have chewed men like you up

And spat them out in a heartbeat.

Does my softness beguile you?

Does my feigned naïveté amuse you?

Does it coax the hunter in you to lie in wait for easy prey?

I have seen men like you

Rip their hearts out for me,

Big, brave and entitled fools

Whose tongues hiss to the tune of any rhythm that will warrant

My body sway to his beat,

My fidelity HINGE on his every breathe,

My gaping whole of a heart vacant, vagrant,

And already bruised enough to yield easy.

And You, another hunter,

Who thinks this damsel in distress needs your rescue…

Come closer then. Right on que.

See, women like me

Are the type your mothers don’t warn you about.

The type they don’t have the imagination to forewarn you to comprehend,

Warrior Women with daggers in their skirts

And swords where the men ought be.

And if it is my heart you seek…

My love will come with a wound and a knife to the chest .

My love will cost you life as you know it.

My love will demand everything of you and nothing less.

And if you run, run now!

Beware the easy prey turned crafty huntress.

Women like me have always been lone wolves unafraid of the pack.

Beware that the entrancing elixir you seek in me

Has the same taste as the beguiling poison in your soul.

So, when you come for me know that I too come for blood.

And though there are plenty of fish in the sea,

We are masters of disguise, captivating and lying in wait

For a man who’s pride will send him my way, ill-intentioned and conjuring follery.

Beware the betwiching waters you tred.

Be wary when my siren voice lulls your fears and calls you in.

These water are for drowning

Theses waters are for the breaking of pride and folly.

These waters are for the washing of blood as cleansing after battle.

So don’t hold your breath.

This heart was never yours.

This heart never will be.

This heart is NOT for the fainthearted nor the delusional coward…

My love is too holy, too fierce;

My love is alchemical, magical and worth every sacrifice.

There is too much healing in these veins and these are deep deep waters …

And this heart was made for the sacredness of it all.

But you think you can break it, right?

Faith is a passionate creative and an avid reader. She considers herself a mental health advocate and a transformational truth seeker. She is even more passionate about human capital development, psychology and personal development. Connect with her at

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