Gallery of Ghosts

There are dismembered parts

of every broken heart, constructed


into a dead museum.  It’s so difficult

to find which soul you’re looking for


there. Daily the exhibit grows, so

even the shadows are framing


some shivering sharred of some shattered

heart.  She was such a slight thing,


in life.  Probably, just a memory of dust

stuck under some glass, now, to spend out


all days trapped in her untouchable

glass coffin.  Lonely as ever.


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