I turned back every clock in this stupid house,
but that didn't help. You were still there, with every
second that passed. I realized, now, that I've forgotten

one. The one that takes refuge behind lines of bloodied,
bruised ribs, as well as the one that kills me. Not to mention,
the one that's responsible for my being alive. It doesn't keep

the right time, for it still thinks you're slipping secrets into my drinks
and spreading me across sheets like rose pedals. I turned back every
clock except the one in my chest, and it just won't stop ticking.