Jamaica was her name, sly as can be

Emotionless and unattached, a predator times three

She crept into night letting her black locs cascading down

Like a spider men got caught in her web all over town

But Jamaica liked to play innocent, by day she was a typist

Politely acknowledging the workers in her building, no crisis

She was without a doubt beautiful, her country tis of thee

Mango sweet, Kingston island gal who paraded in the shadows, sometimes with me

I never got a chance to tell Jamaica how much I loved her; she trapped me by the bay

Believing her nothings as sweet, she got what she needed, treacherous bliss then on her way

I could never understand why Jamaica couldn’t love a single soul, her story a mystery

But my own had been solved for I stopped her before her yellow sandals reached the road

Her ignorance to love me back outweighed my desire to be with her, one blow she turned cold 

Jamaica, my Jamaica lay peaceful with a face that was slightly shocked

Now she can be free to roam with others like her not hurting men’s hearts, her spirit had docked

23 hour lockdown is my heart, mind and soul because of Jamaica, the prison icy and cold

Wonder if she loves me now, because you don’t mess with love, be careful, do as you’re told

Elishia N.E. Peterson


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