Bianca Devin

Brown hair sprawls 

Out from underneath 

The plastic forest green tarp.

It knotted, and natted,

Broken twigs are her 

Crown as she lies 

In a bath of mud. 

She is faceless.

Once vibrant blue eyes,

Glazed over 

Like a doll’s 

Beautiful and bright--fixed 

On the horizon. 

Stiff with rigor,

Nails laced with dirt 

And blood. 

Screams echo in the 

Distant past. 

He presses her 

Down and 

Large gorilla palms

Wrapped around her neck.

He flashes his glimmering 

White teeth at her.

And with 

His knife he draws

A smile,

Where there should be none. 

Rusty red.

On her throat.

Slashed ear to ear. 

Suffocated by 

The very blood that runs 

Through her veins. 

Blue and Red illuminate 

The silence,

Like Christmas likes 

Blinking on and off. 

Laughter, manic and free.

He grabs the knife

And plunges it into his 

Throat---blood--  

Gurgling it like mouthwash. 

Stumbling backwards

Towards his handy-work.

The world will have to 

Find someone else to orbit now! 

He shouts. 

He is the center. 

He is the sun. 

He lies on her.

Covering her porcelain 

Skin, in his black blood. 

Tar on the feathers of a 

Dove. 

He reaches into his pocket

And pulls out his phone.

A flash.

A trophy, 

that he will share with 

The world. 

I’m sorry Bianca 

It reads. 

Here comes Hell,

It’s redemption.

Right? 

This is her life and

I ended it in a minute. 

*tragically this poem was inspired by the real life murder of Bianca Devin ( pictured above) please click here to learn more about her story and how you can help