I keep him forgotten.
A mess of a skeleton,
incomplete in confines.

Ceramic, statuesque,
covered in spiders -
where no-one can find.

But every so often
I pry open the doors
and polish him to shine.

The spiders disperse,
an army of memories
locked in my mind.

I keep him forgotten.
I keep him rotting -
in my closet, he's mine.