you kept my amethyst in your jacket / so I put a new piece of citrine in your palm / we sit at the bar & talk about cemeteries / tell me about your father again / talk about New York / that one time you were onstage dripping with blood & your best friend passed out in the back row / this one summer the basement flooded so you wrote plays in someone else’s attic / I buy you a drink & stare at your mouth / I buy you a drink & watch you watch me / the way my knees still shake / tongue still slips / we walk in the rain & I wish the in-betweens were longer / I wish your car wouldn’t start


Lauren Milici is a super chill lady who believes that the best art is derived from naked honesty. She posts drafts, sketches, and other trash on her website,

Vagabond City Literary Journal

Founded in 2013, we are a literary journal dedicated to publishing outsider literature. We publish art, prose, reviews, and interviews from marginalized creators.