He's only a mean, vicious cloud in the sky of my heart.
The sun still blazes behind him, but he will always loom overhead,
Spilling droplets of bromine that stain my skin,
Spilling droplets of ethanol that blind me.
I cast down hailstones the size of his new love's eyes,
Eyes which will inevitably spill their own pearls as expressions of the heartache he delivers so well.