He Doesn’t Even Know You’re From Jersey

He doesn’t know shit about shit, because he needs this

to stay mystery. Me, a cold case. A missing person.

Sexiest part of any murder is what happens after,

when the body, half-buried, is discovered by lovers.

Once, I broke a man’s arm with magic. I left him

at the altar. I martyred. I spit it back in his mouth.


Also by Lauren Badillo Milici

$hare