Cleo & Solo
Solo
Yo Cleo, ever think about how a burning street lamp smells like burnt sugar and can make a poet's heart race? Got any verses about that kind of sweet danger?
Cleo
The lamp burns like a sugar‑cooked ember,
its scent a sweet ache that curls into the night.
My heart flickers, quickening, as if it knows the danger,
and in that crackling heat I find a quiet, trembling song.
Solo
Nice shot—sweet heat, quiet song. Next, drop a little chaos, make that ember blaze into a full fire.
Cleo
When the ember spirals out, it pours a wild, golden fire into the night, a bright chaos that tugs at the quiet streets, and my pulse starts humming like a restless drum.
Solo
The streets just got a neon spotlight, and I’m the first one to grab the spark and turn it into a blaze of my own.