Mercy theif

Poetry is my unanswerd riddle; a perpetual journey paved with hidden stones.
Maybe it leads to my heart. Or from it...

The shape of my dreams, sepia tones behind a simple frame, beguiles.
And when you kiss me goodnight I lay in the dark with pieces missing,
tangled among cotton and shadow, seductively woven between my uncovered limbs like eager vines of Morning Glory, blue celeste.

Coquette. it's like I wear the name on my tank top.
I can't hide myself. Perceived as an exotic dancer
without a stage; rhinestone earrings my only costume.
Naked and scornful in the eyes of strangers.

My heart is a gypsy in the valley of forgetting
and I'm lost between the rain in my soldier's brown eyes
and dashing strangers who offer their rough mercy
if I lay down for it.

(Artwork: Antonio Diaz)