Chronicles of a single.

I get to the house and drop my bag.

I’m almost shouting ‘ honey I’m home’

But I know nobody is home.

I’m not even dating,

Let alone being married.

I try to get alive with my country music,

Coincidentally they sing of jilted lovers

Desperately in love, that’s not what I want to hear.

Quickly I sink into my head,

To find myself, or find company in there

There’s always tea for warmth

Sometimes it’s a book to read

Others I’m having my writing socks

Then I fall asleep. It’s been a long day

Tomorrow is another

It’s a cycle.

Chronicles of a single.

Storiesitell2020