Cinderella Feet
Certain that I'm lost,
my eyes search the street
zoom in on a figure
across the square,
eight inch heels,
encase Cinderella feet.
Christ forgive me, but
all I do is stare.
Holly fuck! Can't be?
Fuck me, she's seen me!
Run Olly! Run Olly! But
I just stand
eyes full of her, the
possibility
punctured only, when
she holds out her hand
unlit cigarette, slim
fingers of wire,
“Beautiful boy! You
like? You give me fire!”
“Like?” Then I
understand the truth of it
it's not love, like I
had imagined it,
'cause she lost her
slipper, crossing the street
And now she walks on
Cinderella feet!
ow
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