Between Bruises & Blooms

I don’t wonder why
you still look.

People visit museums
for all kinds of reasons.

Curiosity.

Memory.

Regret.

Boredom.

It has nothing to do with me.

The woman you knew
no longer exists.

She was buried
beneath years
of quiet rebuilding,
ordinary mornings,
and choosing peace
over permission.

If your eyes
find their way here,

they’ll discover
only glass.

You can observe.

You can remember.

You can invent
whatever story
helps you sleep.

None of it
changes the exhibit.

None of it
opens the door.

You are no longer
part of the collection.

You are simply
another visitor

who forgot
the museum closed
behind him
years ago.