Mi Alma

You and I,

by the church,

holding hands,

listening to Cindy Scott,

in sweet silence,

that didn’t frighten or bore me.

That’s when I knew,

as the night wrapped her arms around us,

the sun fast asleep,

behind the tall trees of the square,

your hand,

still holding mine,

trembled and teased me,

and my heart wept as she lost control.

I knew,

as I glanced up at you,

to see you glancing back,

the most beautiful boy,

at our party for two,

surrounded by the stars,

cigarette hanging from the lips I loved,

and I,

so alive,

risen from the dead,

by your deadpan declaration of affection.

I knew,

on those steps,

as I sank into your sweeping shoulders,

my lashes meeting,

gossiping about you,

as my eyes closed,

and the city walked past,

staring at you,

as if they knew too,

and I knew,

that my soul,

was sitting on some steps,

in Leicester Square,

with his best girl in his arms,

and a cigarette hanging from the lips she loved.


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