Attached paintings

Closer we drew together like a fine art;
The more detail revealed, instilled an understanding on both parts;
With More strokes of happiness and relation,
Brushing aside any taste of bitterness or corrosion.
A canvas of emotions, painted by love,
You had my all and you didn't know the half of it.
But like all paintings, after the heart is put into its design,
There comes a time to let go of a beauty that was mine.
With each second, a bristle fell from the brush;
With each stroke, the painting neared a figment of my past;
Constituting pigments of sentiment in the dye rendered and cast.
I'm left with a depiction of us in a frame with a tainted picture;
The irony of you long gone, and me out of the picture.
I wonder if you frequent the gallery of all our art pieces;
From our first meeting to our last kiss;
Or maybe the room I hang them all in lies in my heart alone..
I suppose that's the feeling of being in love alone...