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True crime
Who knows why I watch it—the missing girls, mutilated First by stone, then a phone call gone unanswered. Not for entertainment, but close to bones, a familiarity.
Irish Goodbye
Please don’t blame me when I avert my eyes Half-asleep inside melancholy dreams Just a few deep breaths from the exit sign Creeping as I come, trampled as I seem In the leaving there’s a certain romance Melody of footsteps undiscovered Echoed in that verse—Ecclesiastes1:2–but the earth remains forever How needing just dissolves for a SIM card And lonely is mistaken for a…
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Lizzy Burnam 🐞 