everyone else is so done with 2016
but *******, it's only the 17th monday

and today's not the last day, i suppose
so would you come back, would you stay some other time?

you're the one who makes breathing bearable
and life possible to be content with

though it tastes sour on the tongue
each word i gulp back is sweet in the throat

so i try to hold a secret deep in the deepest forest
and soon enough you catch my eyes like wildfire

i had hoped today actually was not the last day
but if it's not, would it have been different?

every time i remember your voice, your gaze
it was apocalypse