Hour 9

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.

2 thoughts on “Hour 9

  1. I enjoyed reading this. The last line is a strong one, and I like how the improbability of the end of the world is tempered by something very real and common – the end of a relationship.

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