INK

INK

I bought the ink from Japan because the bottle was so beautiful. 

I bought the ink from Japan because of my feelings about ink.

I have many feelings about ink.

I love ink.

I like ink.

I like paper on ink.

Or should I say: ink on paper.

The many colors of ink I love.

But if there were only one color, I would love it.

And I would miss all the others.

But I wouldn’t because how would I know.

Ink is something that can do something but who knows what.

If you draw a person made of ink, they can smear.

But here you have done something.

You have made something out of something that can become something.

Ink must stand for something, but I know not what.

Until that day, I will stand next to a bottle of ink.

I will say: what

Ink: what?

Tell me, 

sweetheart.

Tell me.