Jungle Ghosts

You claimed to keep us
In your heart.
Are you surprised
To find it scarred?
What better way
To leave our mark?

For our hearts were shattered,
You natural disaster,
In your endless search
For the greenest pasture.

Learn to tend the fields
Already in your care.
It takes some time to yield
The produce growing there.

The city will sustain you
Wherever you may roam,

But what wonders
Will you build
Without a place
To call your home?

A bit of a bitter poem about ghosting. As opposed to smaller towns, cities let you live a much more nomadic lifestyle relationship-wise. The image in my mind is a hunter-gatherer in the city jungle, gathering what they can in any relationship they find, then leaving for they don't know how to plant and tend a field. An unneeded skill in a bounteous jungle.

I also find it funny it’s called “ghosting” when leaving is the last thing a ghost would do.