Written by Tabalith
Art by David Bartus


She has spent her whole Sunday afternoon on a cemetery
in a city she does not know nor love
because to love the unknown is like kissing the
mirror image of a stranger

She has walked between the graves on a cemetery
under a glaring, March sun that cut
her little feet and made them bleed until
she did not feel it anymore

She has left a piece of herself on a cemetery
path, leading from a dried-up bush
to a river where she imagined herself drowning
before she disappeared between the streets