Deep in Thought

She is deep in thought.

See, the furrowed brow,
the tortured lips
drawn tight.

Fingers dancing
across the table,
she writes in white,
burning ink, on dark red
canvas eyelids.

Do not call her name,
her fire is ephemeral,
and thoughts are as flimsy
as hearts. She tries
to keep them
behind closed lids,
but really, she's just waiting
for them to scatter.

Because she knows,
her thoughts are shallow.