Look closer. No touching. No pictures. No exit. They dressed me in correct proportions Measured silence with a ruler Pinned a posture to my shoulders Filed my pulse down to a whisper Polished ribs to catch the spotlight Hung my name beneath a question Temperature: permanently neutral Breath replaced with soft suggestion Visitors lean toward the barrier Eyes like needles through the pane Someone reads the placard slowly Someone mouths my given name I am posed between intentions Curated into stillness Every angle pre-approved Every flaw rewritten as "witness" They say: "Observe the symmetry" They say: "Note the calm restraint" They say: "A rare example" They say: "No sign of complaint" I am vitrined skin Lit from underneath Perfect in suspension Breathing without breath I am vitrined skin Seen but never touched Shaped by quiet hands That never ask too much And the glass hums low When I almost move The lights grow bright When I disapprove I am vitrined skin Beautiful And still approved They adjusted my expression Half-surprise and half-compliance Added faint anticipations Removed visible defiance Catalogued my small reactions Filed them under "controlled" Annotated every tremor Marked "acceptable" in gold A child taps the glass three times The guard shifts weight but does not speak For a second my reflection Looks like someone incomplete Someone scribbles on a clipboard Someone whispers, "Well preserved" Someone says, "It’s quite remarkable How it holds what it’s been served" They say: "Observe the discipline" They say: "The structure holds" They say: "A living artifact" They say: "Compliant to the mold" I am vitrined skin Lit from underneath Perfect in suspension Breathing without breath I am vitrined skin Seen but never touched Shaped by quiet hands That never ask too much And the glass hums low When I almost move The lights grow bright When I disapprove I am vitrined skin Beautiful And still approved There is warmth behind the lighting There is weight inside my spine There is friction in the silence There is something not designed The barrier reflects my posture But the reflection blinks too slow I feel pressure in the stillness Like a pulse beneath the glow A curator clears their throat A guard adjusts the frame Someone writes: "Slight deviation" Someone crosses out my name Glass remembers every heartbeat Even when it looks serene Every still display is trembling Even when it looks pristine I am vitrined skin But the lights reveal Something underneath That refuses to be sealed I am vitrined skin Stillness under strain Every silent second Etches fractures in the pane Hear the low hum shift Hear the fixtures strain Beauty holds too tight And the glass learns pain I am vitrined skin Beautiful And not the same Placard tilts. Dust falls inward. No applause. Just breath.
