Poetry | In the Harlequin’s Touch

PicsArt_10-31-12.30.20

In the Harlequin’s Touch – Reflections of the Shadowdancer

In the Harlequin’s Touch

Simple.
Sweet.
I feel the cool
Harlequin touch.
What do I do?
When the joke’s
on the fool?

Bitter.
Complex.
Multiple colors strike
the mirror in the
darkest night
of a soul lit by the star
of solitude.

Salty.
Simple.
Tears of joy
and of sorrow mix
upon this toy
within my hands
so fragile
and glass.

I am the harlequin
and the bells ring on
as the white paint
drips in a rain of salty bitter
dreams,
but still they are sweet
to some tongue.

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