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The Gallery

I would like one day to create a gallery of my own

of the people I’ve met, or stumbled upon,

or the people I’ve hugged, and wanted to whisper nothings

into their shoulder, not for them to hear at all.

I would like, one day, to build up this gallery from the base

start with family, early childhood friends, enemies

move onto the people I’ve lost, shade them in grey

dim the lights on the ones I miss the most

and draw in red, beating-heart red, all the ones

I thought I could fall in love with, or I had feelings for

scratch out the eyes of the boys I regret talking to.

the gallery would open on the twenty-fourth, on my birthday

I would invite everyone inside, everyone framed up in brown

or black, or white, or grey, invite them inside

and close behind them the doors, turning the lock.

I’d tell them this is the gallery of my mind and my heart

and it clings to you all, feeds on you

for it craves for love, for hate, for misery, and for wonder

I hand around a drawn-up sheet, full of varied names

bidding begins at $5.00 for the piece titled ‘Me’

- Keeley Young

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