Every time I've left with a change of clothes, you've said,
"Come home, baby. This time, it'll be different."
Lunacy, my friends said, this longing, while you remained
Indifferent as the moon on a winter night to my
Pleas, my desperate texts, begging you not to
Share our love--yet you did—and I've returned
Every time. For I'll always believe your lies.
About the Creator
Geoffrey Philp
I'm a Jamaican writer. I write poems, stories & essays about climate change, Marcus Garvey, Bob Marley, haiku & haibun. I've published a graphic novel for children, "My Name is Marcus." For more info, visit: https://www.geoffreyphilp.com/
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.