I Found Us in a Museum

A redraft

We are an archaic language.

Indecipherable gravestones,
represented by a few eroded words.

Intricate stone statues,
Oblivious to acid rain
Until the blisters form.

The glittering sword of a warrior.
It would turn to beautiful dust
If touched.

A book forced open.
Same page, day after day.
Shielded by a glass screen.

Two halves of a cracked stone
That no longer align.

Outside this chilled crypt,
Soaked pavements glitter, reflecting people.
They do not smile back.
Their senses of purpose tangle and merge.

I leave us in stasis
A moment frozen
A moment that will never thaw.

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