With Gypsy Bruises
We charge through Rome at night. Weaving around its dark monuments and I finally feel safe. I've added more bones to surround my vital parts. Everything is encased in safety, wrapped in safety, folded away in safety. The sounds of breathing are pushed down into the soil and shadows. We fly past gypsies who pull at our skin and throw hexes before disappearing like cool coins slipped into sun-chapped palms. This will all go better than it did last time.
Pen on Paper