(found poem)
Tell no one, one of us is lying.
In the morning I’ll be gone, girl,
no time for goodbye.
With no one as witness,
we begin at the end.
Everything I never told you,
don’t tell.
The dead don’t speak.
Things fall apart behind closed doors,
close to home when no one is watching.
No one needs to know
those we left behind run away.
Dirty tricks, dead pretty: all that remains,
the bones beneath dark places in the woods.
Farewell, my lovely predator.
