The Blue Ink.

I see you there:

Sitting on a chair.

Your eyes lost in thought,

Your mouth lost for words.

You are still as a showpiece.

You show not your emotions.

Yet your character reflects deepness,

Your demeanour pensiveness.

There is a pool of bitter memories

Surging through your mind,

And here you sit calmly

Relishing your wine.

I hear the thunder strike.

I see how the rain

Trips down your window pane.

I see the droplets beseech,

But I see you not succumb.

There is an air of despair;

Resonance of melancholy.

I look at your eyes,

And see myself.

When you lift your eyes;

I discern myself.