Ink And Anguish

Was that love?

You say,

Love is blind and lovers can't see it.

In reality, we make it blind and never try to see it.

Lust is not love,

Hatred is the prisoner of love.

It's not you,

It's your bloody thinking.

You are tied up,

Only of avarice and Eros.

I know,

Ink has more patience than man.

The word love,

Always tasted like the scent of Ink.  Like a newly written poem

Of me.

You just glide it across paper,

Pure physical pleasure of 

Fountain pen use is

A recurring theme among enthusiasts.

With the world’s finest word,

Ink

Put me in touch with the language,

As I haven’t been in years.

On the threshold of tomorrow

Through countless sighs,

I wait for you

Stranded in the pools of fate.

Now

I'm in solace zone,

Only of

Magic Ink.