We all like to paint ourselves as the victim But you had a ******* museum. I'm not saying you didn't have the currency To hang all those paintings But you loved to live there and stare at them.
You never showed me all your pictures, Never purged yourself of paint. You said I made you happy But clung to pigments and brushstrokes Like they were the only thing your arms could be full of. Your primary lover: the sadness you danced with.
Well I guess I handed you every supply To paint your biggest piece of all. I'm sure the placard underneath reads: The Marriage and the Downfall. Today you must be staring at it Just like me.
But tomorrow I hope you find your way outside and breathe fresh air.