Storm Clouds

Here's to you my dear,
my broken future,
my delectable past,
the bar splits apart,
my sides feel the strain
as my heart's aorta
chokes on itself, sending
blood back through the vessels.

Wide vistas open up
on either side of this
life, with me on this
and you on that bank
gazing at oneanother,
no longer understanding,
as though we're rare species,
viewed through binoculars.

Here's to you my dear,
how did we come to this?
As I sip at my can,
watch smoke swirl from my mouth,
taking steps in my mind
back to where I came from,
but lately this has been tortuous,
the clouds hanging low, about to rain.