I search the treeline
For that one opening I know
Will lead to the tiny cottage
You and I built
For the end of the world
I need to sit
And take a break
Before I break
But how strange it is
That I just keep going
Knowing you won’t even be there
It will be empty
And dark
And cold
Unlike the bottle I use
To trap emotions like fireflies
The anger inside built up
Until the bottle burst
And the fire flies
Right from my mouth
Spitting heat and lava
Burning my tongue.
I don’t mean to be so angry
But you left before we could see
The end of the world
And instead become the end
Of my world.