WEBVTT

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Jane Doe Number Two.

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They found her
unresponsive in the street.

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Beneath a lamplight, I
imagined, made her seem angelic.

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Regal even, clean.

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She must have been around 16.

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She died who knows how many
hours earlier that day.

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The heroin inside her
like a vengeful dream

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about to be fulfilled.

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Her hands were crossed
about her chest

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as though raised
up in self-defense.

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I tried to pry them
open to confirm

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the absence of her heartbeat.

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But in death, she
was so strong, as

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resolute as she was beautiful.

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I trace the track
marks on her arms

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instead then pressed my thumb
against her bloodless lips.

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So urgent was my need to know.

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I felt the quiet left
by a departing soul.

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