before the end,

i cheers that we never were property owners.

and mourn the apocalypse dream whore apartment,

and never get married, not even to you.

i’ve mourned this domestic safe haven of evil,

the single-use plastics we keep on collecting.

we would have recycled. we would have.

i’ve promised before and i’ll promise again.

i’ve been wrong and this is not the end.

i’ll be right one day

the sky will stop wanting my sworn future perfects.

the sky will surprise me again in the morning,

and now that we’re here still,

what right do we have to be happy together?

apocalypse lover, our footprint’s too big.