Spoiler! :
this town holds a mystery, written on its collar
the torn brochure mentioned a small metallic pendant,
ever shimmering to shield from prying eyes from looking
further inside, and swung off the throat of the mayor,
whose rites were sworn on ticking hearts and vintage
clocks that could only be wound once a day at midnight
(the name was never written across the bright pages of
the guide, which should have played a warning chime
in the back of your mind, but everyone was smiling at
you with warm embraces and slightly tinged-by-tea yellow
teeth and you wanted to stay, just for another minute)
the dirt-stained, crinkled-eyed citizens of this nameless
town convened in front of an old building (made of brick, as
if there was something to hide away) holding watches,
that reminded attendees that every secret had a time limit,
and when you strolled out of this town, your mind was newly
blank, unable to comprehend how pretty the green parks
looked, let alone the whispers at every corner of the street,
spoken by hidden figures and you can only capture a few words
(gray dripping down fingertips, clutching a warm, living, beating
object in your hand, encouraged to squeeze down harder so that
more liquid dribbled onto the washed out sidewalk, watering
the yellow dandelion weeds growing from cracks that you didn't
remember seeing, or stepping over, or even existing beforehand)
and that you couldn't wait to come back and visit (why don't
you remember the name? what was the name?) again next year,
waving farewell to the faces that you will soon forget and the
town that sparked a connection but soon dwindled into obscurity.
the torn brochure mentioned a small metallic pendant,
ever shimmering to shield from prying eyes from looking
further inside, and swung off the throat of the mayor,
whose rites were sworn on ticking hearts and vintage
clocks that could only be wound once a day at midnight
(the name was never written across the bright pages of
the guide, which should have played a warning chime
in the back of your mind, but everyone was smiling at
you with warm embraces and slightly tinged-by-tea yellow
teeth and you wanted to stay, just for another minute)
the dirt-stained, crinkled-eyed citizens of this nameless
town convened in front of an old building (made of brick, as
if there was something to hide away) holding watches,
that reminded attendees that every secret had a time limit,
and when you strolled out of this town, your mind was newly
blank, unable to comprehend how pretty the green parks
looked, let alone the whispers at every corner of the street,
spoken by hidden figures and you can only capture a few words
(gray dripping down fingertips, clutching a warm, living, beating
object in your hand, encouraged to squeeze down harder so that
more liquid dribbled onto the washed out sidewalk, watering
the yellow dandelion weeds growing from cracks that you didn't
remember seeing, or stepping over, or even existing beforehand)
and that you couldn't wait to come back and visit (why don't
you remember the name? what was the name?) again next year,
waving farewell to the faces that you will soon forget and the
town that sparked a connection but soon dwindled into obscurity.
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