By Ty Weinert
I lost my shoe
Dead battery in my phone
Bleached bangs a mess
Pretty girls shouldn’t walk alone
My dress is torn
I still smell his cologne
Feel him under my nails
Pretty girls shouldn’t walk alone
Bugs squirm across my skin
Treating my body like their throne
Eggs laid in the invisible places
Pretty girls shouldn’t walk alone
I hear my parents shouting
“Is it her? Is it Joan?”
I’ve never been so embarrassed
“Why did you let her walk home alone?”
He was sweet when he offered a ride
In his car covered in chrome
I’m sorry
I’m so fucking sorry
Mum and Dad stand over me
Laying in a field two blocks from home
I’m sticky from the blood
Please don’t let me die alone
