Down

How large I see the world and feel each person’s footsteps fall
How delicate I breathe the dust that swallows up the halls
I cloak myself in refuge and the darkness of my eyes
And I never let them catch me; no, how I have learned to hide. 

I feel more colors than they can sense
I hurl my painted words at death
I catch myself falling alone

And curse the gypsy heart I stole. 

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