Salvador Dali

pocketwatch i remembered your pocketwatch last, the glint of yellow lamplight as you glanced at it, before shutting the swollen door. you owned me as honestly as your watch, and i felt as smooth against the palm of your hand as that warm metal, bound to you by the same delicate chain. i told something even simpler than the time, something that didn't change or darken with the seasons of the year. how disappointed you were that i couldn't be reset, though i felt the tightness of your fingers fumbling at the broken switch.

Hannah Jane Sassaman

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