The clock next to my pillow hasn't worked for weeks
but since when have I been one to be on time?
Days feel like evening and vice versa.
The only proof that time is still ticking away
t i c k t o c k - i n g
in a spiral motion
are those roses.
The roses keep getting colder
hung to dry,
a wreath of my favorite city memories,
on a noose of silk.
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