Pickpocket (c)

Full moon,
that jaundiced eye
staring down
at us,
unblinking.

Your breath
freezing
in my hair
and
half-cocked
promises
dancing in
sepia-toned
whispers.

This glimmer
of something fey;
of a fleeting, flitting thing
that might be
some kind of love;
glimpsed only
out of the corners
of eyes,
in flickering shadows
on starlit nights.

Perplexing peripheries,
fantastic phosphenes
dancing
just beyond reach
intangible as your words,
your whispered pledge;

your pretty mouth
spouts inanities,
but I'm not listening to the sounds.
too distracted
by your sleight of hand;
when
did you pluck
my heart from my chest
to slip into your pocket?

And how is it
that I'm strung here,
hypnotized
and dangling like
a locket;
with pretty pictures
tucked inside;
trapped because
you've locked it?