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 painted.

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.