the last poem i will ever write for you
city skylines
faded tans
this is the way the world ends
burning bushes
thatched roofs
white moonlight
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang
with a whimper
maybe in a new world
the sight of your name wouldn't make me vomit
you wouldn't leave an impression
your hands wouldn't fit in mine
broken glass
bleached hair
calloused hands
this is the way the world ends
your hands in my hair
on my waist
you are the way the world ends
we are the way the world ends
