B62 … Sweet You

I came here to show you my brain, i didn’t expect praise or graditude, i didn’t expect anything really. I came here to show you my mind as one human to another. ‘Hey, this is what goes on in here, what goes on in there’. I didn’t expect to be harassed so dismally. I didn’t expect so much pain for just thinking these thoughts out as best as i could, to squeeze them out to fruition. I did’t expect that they would last forever in me and certainly not in you. I forgot more than you could ever know about me. Let me go. I don’t exist any more. I never really did. Certainly not in those characters; they don’t even look like me. I do truly attempt to let you go. I know that i misunderstood you, as you i, but please rinse me out of your rag, let me out of your bag. It hurts so deep when you reflect something that i left so long ago, bringing it back to haunt me like you do, it just keeps a lie alive much too long, and not at all necessary.

Painting by Meghan Sims

Thanks again for the paintings to smother my walls with. When you walked by i could feel the hidden tears for the fears you feel when you’re alone and how subtle you left me strangled in your tangled dreams.
The images so eloquently placed upon your walls feel a lot like you, tho you smell different in this light, ‘is that new perfume you’re wearing’, it has the the embrace of something i once knew, from a piece of music i recall, a sombre minor-key piano piece, lovely, it suits you.
But it is time to move on now, so please, take care of yourself and all your dreams. You really are such a treasure when you can’t remember who you were and could care less about who you are. Sweet you.

images and writing by patrick wey

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