The apocalypse told me it loved me and swabbed me a piece of its heart
so I made us some lemonade from scratch with some lemon zest for fiber
and we drank it together on a porch swing while we exchanged vows of silence
The apocalypse told me it loved me and gave me one of its wisdom teeth
so I left it under my pillow and the next day the apocalypse brought me breakfast in bed
I ate it as it watched wondering if the eggs were too runny
The apocalypse told me it loved me in a note that it taped to my forehead
and left the room leaving a trail of scales in its wake that I taped to my eyelids
The apocalypse told me it loved me but never returned
The apocalypse told me it loved me so I mourned its loss
and pasted flyers of the apocalypse all over my house
The apocalypse showed up as a guest on a late night tv show last night
it was clear it was my apocalypse and my eyelids agreed
Last night I promised myself that my apocalypse will return
once it completes the late night talk show circuit
My apocalypse is on my milk carton as a backup I taped a flyer of it there