What is he thinking? 

Lips in a permanent frown

Eyebrows knit like stockings 

And body crouched, stooped, stunted

Like a warrior conquered.

What is he thinking? 

He's not thinking of me. 

In the grand scheme of things, 

I'm not the apple of his eye

But the soil 

On the worm 

Of that apple.  

What is he thinking?

He's away in a land

Too alien to perceive

Too profound to define

His eyes a tinted window 

To the happenings inside.

What is he thinking?

Of the derailing train of thought 

His lips could paint a picture 

A thousand panels large 

But shut they stay

The world shut away

What is he thinking? 

If only I knew.