His pov:
In shadows of canvas, a broken brush's caress
A boy, an artist, paints love's silent distress
he looks at the clock then at his phone
Sighing, as he knows he's all alone
Time passes by with each stroke
A love untold, bespoke
She hasn't answered him in quite a while
His anxiety starts to pile
He continues to paint, having her in mind
Remembering her voice, her laugh, her words so kind
Feelings of loneliness, he painfully embraces
His mind trapped only in small dark places
He dips his brush in crimson red
Stroking the canvas til it all bled
He paints the petals long and tall
Looking once again for her call
As he paints the stem, he adds the thorns
Lighting strikes and hears of thunder, storms
"Man, I miss her so much", he mumbles
A tear starts to shed as he slowly crumbles
He wipes it away, and paints a delicate hand
His artwork so far, so amazingly grand
Blood runs down the fingers, so
In deep throughs, he's still so low
A finished masterpiece, he has done
A rose being held by someone
His finished piece is all for her
His mind, still missing her a complete blur