The Miserable Artist, In Love
Which came first, the artist or the misery?
Blindsided with spontaneity.
So I fell hard and fast,
Tortured by thoughts that it will not last.
She slid by me slow, her actions subtle,
So timid and shy, every response a struggle.
This added to her charm.
So we subtracted the day together.
She shines like the sun.
She’s the perfect weather.
But I dwell in this cloud, this cloud of uncertainty
it’s too early to tell if she speaks truth to me.
“I’m a perfect mate”, I display for her to see, fighting these urges to pick up and leave…
“She’s just another girl”, my ego pleases me,
But love is an ocean and my heart is lost at sea.
Only time will tell if she is right for me…
So which came first? The artist or the misery?