Love Palette Poem by Felix Lugo

The colors are drying out on my palette.

I tried to paint a beautiful picture yet I never found the right color pattern.

I'm sadden that I can't reach you through words and this painting is getting harder to complete.

My tears has caused this painting to have running streams.

The more I look at the colors it reveals it means more than what it seems.

Why must this distance between us keep me suffering?

I snapped a paintbrush trying to color in your heart.

Was this a sign?

Why did it come out so dark?

Even with mistakes would it still be considered art?