05-26-2025, 05:35 AM
Wardour Steet (revised 0.1)
In the small Soho cafe, you sat,
a crippled explosion of joy.
The waiters circled you like acolytes,
charmed serpents, supplicant at your feet.
Too close to your sun, I trembled
and like the wax that held
your wings to my shoulders,
I melted, combusted, skin
sloughed from my body,
blood boiled and burned,
my bones so much ash,
falling to drift out the doorway
to mingle with the crowds in the street.
Original Poem
In the small Soho cafe, you sat,
A crippled explosion of joy.
The waiters circled you like acolytes
your smile burning them to the ground
Too close to your heat, I stood
And like the wax that held
my wings to my shoulders
I melted, combusted, my skin
Sloughed from my body,
My blood boiled and burned
My bones so much ash
Falling to drift out the doorway
To mingle with the crowds in the street.
In the small Soho cafe, you sat,
a crippled explosion of joy.
The waiters circled you like acolytes,
charmed serpents, supplicant at your feet.
Too close to your sun, I trembled
and like the wax that held
your wings to my shoulders,
I melted, combusted, skin
sloughed from my body,
blood boiled and burned,
my bones so much ash,
falling to drift out the doorway
to mingle with the crowds in the street.
Original Poem
In the small Soho cafe, you sat,
A crippled explosion of joy.
The waiters circled you like acolytes
your smile burning them to the ground
Too close to your heat, I stood
And like the wax that held
my wings to my shoulders
I melted, combusted, my skin
Sloughed from my body,
My blood boiled and burned
My bones so much ash
Falling to drift out the doorway
To mingle with the crowds in the street.