The Model's Lament (Poetry)

How I longed to be some famous artist’s muse —
The one who fired his passion — made him burn
With that consuming love romantics choose —

Revealing with each brush stroke how he yearned
To capture every nuance of my smile
And feel such rapture equally returned.

Such fantasies cling tireless and beguile
The mirror in my wistful aging state —
I linger by its glass and pose awhile...

It should have been my destiny — my fate
To be forever recognized as art —
My face the one to shine and resonate

With adoration — leaping heart to heart
Near-visible — that frisson passed between
Muse and painter in their world apart.

Inspiration paints a pretty scene —
And surely I was born for him to use —
A yet-to-be-discovered might-have-been.