Mr Museum
Flayed inside his shadow box.
A permanent collection.
Years lost under glass.
History anchors hate and trinket.
He crafted this cabinet.
Polished the locks.
The tours are all guided.
And he leads every step.
To the left: heart on shelf.
To the right: fist just in case.
His exhibitions never open.
His artefacts are never viewed.
A relic in love’s wreckage.
Sorry, forever sorry.
Read the sign: Stand behind the line.
Don’t touch the display.
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