Wilted once crimson

Abandoned mailbox,
Of shredded post-cards
The truth is canvassed in red paint on the wall,

Into a vacant apartment off Vindicated Boulevard
She says the the ticking clock is misleading.

Concrete balcony,
Smudged with sublime,
Some things in this world she cannot steal,
The rotary telephone collecting dust
Long since it once would ring.

Pulled the sun into the blinds
By the brown wilted once crimson rose,
She left the broken glasses and a note.
There's much left, 

Too much,
& much too real.