You wanted me to trade my frog songs for the sirens
the sounds of an unceasing city
You wanted me to trade my languid licentiousness for gritty urbanism
You wanted me to trade what I am for what you wanted me to be
I did
I almost did
I refuse
I am just as powerless to change the tides of the ocean
the direction of the winds
you
as I am to lose myself in you
The deliciousness of your touch
turns sour as you stuff me into your box
the heat of your gaze
burns me as I am deemed unacceptable in your eyes
Your mirror shatters as I try to see myself in you
In the end I am left with the shards
the broken boxes
and the burned offal of what you wanted me to be
I gather them up
Take them to the river
and let it wash me clean
As the siren song of the frogs fills me up again.