Beneath my words is my

Beneath my words is my breath,

beneath my breath are my lungs--filled with clouds.

 

Particles of parts that only I can see,

so I built myself places to keep them,

protected by fragile walls with golden guards.

 

Imagination fades reality until

I am satisfied with myself.

 

I curtain life with other life,

while fear seats the audience,

lights begin to blush,

and I hold a script, wishing to freely speak.

 

I see: floral patterns, laced ribbons, books

They see: solid colors, string, work

I see: copper hair, fair skin, freckles

They see: red, pale, damage

 

I see: me

They see: someone else

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