I had planned our escape:
a matter of days, but
I said wait:
I have plans.
It can’t possibly be that
I left her in our neighborhood
thinking there’d be more time
I am sick. I see the sirens, and
I have a bad feeling. No, I
don’t want to look at this.
She lies on our sweet street, and
they put tape around her, and
the blood bullet casings are labeled.
There are news cameras everywhere,
I can’t even approach the scene, because
there are complications, and
there’s no way to tell the world
that I loved her.