The End of the World

“It’s the end of the world!”

No, it’s just Monday.
Not a cloud in the sky,
But it still feels like doomsday.

Like Frost, you’ve tasted desire.
It hurts like a mother,
And is as subtle as a house is on fire.

Like Frost, you’ve known hate,
Hate for yourself, hate for your vice.
You play it so cool, you freeze into ice.
Ice numbs the pain,
And for now will suffice.

But when the heat of desire melts what is frozen,
And what has long gone unspoken is finally heard,
All must heed the poignant and heart-stopping omen,
Because what happens next feels like the end of the world.