A Red Dot

You told me that “someone can simply paint a red dot on a corner of a canvas and could become rich. It's bogus that it is worth something.”
Yet, you absolutely love art.
I remember you drawing constellations out of my freckles on my skin.
I remember you painting my favorite flower, a white rose, which was placed on the right hand side of my bed.
You could also talk about paintings all day long. Then continuously watch documentaries on Picasso, Van Gogh, or any other beautifully mad artist.
You specifically said “I could never go a day without art”
Yet, you still left me.
I suppose I'm just another red dot placed in the corner of a canvas.