a beloved ink

the ink drips

but, can we call it ink?

from my beloved's soul

from my beloved's soul it drips cold and lifeless

from my beloved's soul it drips cold and lifeless is to write with my very own

from my beloved's soul it drips cold and lifeless is to write with my very own love's ink wrong?

Is it troubling?

I should write her story

I should write her story on this page with the ominous quill

should I write her story on this page with the ominous quill and dip, it into the ink?

Oh, my beloved. Where have you gone?

Oh, my beloved. Where have you gone? Drip, drip, drip the leaky

Oh, my beloved. Where have you gone? Drip, drip, drip the leaky substance drips down the page

Oh, my beloved. Where have you gone? Drip, drip, drip the leaky substance drips down the page as I wander this story and

get down the important parts

The ink is my lovers blood,

not something less,

not something less, not an odd black substance

because your soul is my ink and that is what I will write with

and that is what I will write with you.

~@alostwriter