i only considered it a myth on the mouths of lonely women
longing for a time when hints of jasmine rose like smoke between their thighs,
and men had reason to worry of their departure.
“they always come back” they said, eyes twinkling with redemption songs.
i laughed, nodded in agreement with a lying nod.
thrown, cast, leapt, jumped, dumped, disappeared– out into the wild
no matter the exit strategy, they’ve started to come back from their landings,
from world travels, from swollen wombs of wives, longing arms of girlfriends,
from business ventures gone wrong, and gone wealth.
debunking my theory of myths
–my inboxes a disjointed script of Ghosts of Hims Past.
“i’ll fly you,” they say. “do you miss me?” they ask. “just lunch?” they bargain.
ulterior motives dripping like drool from hungry wolf fangs.
my head shakes, heart long turned away.
a strange phenomenon.
no thank you, sirs.
no thank you.