Starving Artist

She held an aquamarine crayon
in between her chubby little fingers
Her small hand swallowed it
A glow enveloped her cyan eyes,
like firecrackers on the Fourth of July
She scribbled wildly,
with no direction

She held a marigold pencil
in between her slim fingers-
no longer chubby, but she thought they were
Her collarbones smiled through her skin,
even though she did not
But she still doodled,
eating her mistakes

She held a ballpoint pen
in between her brittle bones-
they were supposed to be fingers
Her ribcage protruded like shelves at the market,
however held no food: only pain
But she still drew,
and devoured the ink

She was a starving artist,
and art was all she ate.