Quasimodo

I am Quasimodo;
I hide behind bells and towers
accompanied only by the gargoyles
who come out at night
and fly into the darkness.
I am Quasimodo;
I watch Paris from high above
and the beggars and dancers on the street.
I’m so close to the clouds
why, I could almost fly!
But you keep me rooted on the floor,
cold stone.
You are Esmeralda,
strikingly beautiful
and dangerously lethal.
an illegal Gypsy, saved only by
your pulchritude.
I could never crawl down the thousand stairs
breathlessly
and greet you with a “hello”;
no one loves a hideous hunchback.
You are no exception.
The streets cry under our feet,
begging to be left alone
from the pokes and prods of our shoes.
I am the only one
who hears their crying...
who obeys their pleas
by living hundreds of feet above humanity.
No one can see my ugly face
if I hide it.