Am I a starving artist?
A mystery for you to uncover.
A poem I can sell to a stranger and another.
I cannot think of pages marked with ink.
Instead I'll paint a suffering lover.
There is no canvas alive with color.
Your love I crave it fills me with hunger.
Starve? maybe, but not that way.
Yes I am in decay.
Years may pass before I go under.
Eons while you have another.
How beautiful a writing for my love.
A starving artist isn't noticed 'til they're in heaven above.