When the dust settles
When the light is gone
When the herd is ungated
When the silence is great
When what you see now
Is naught but memory
When all you felt then
Is all you seek now
When the plight is done
When the reckoning’s come

Will you be my
Apocalypse girl

I knew you were there —
knuckles resting like they didn’t know what to do.
I heard your breath through the wood.

You almost knocked. I felt it —
the air pulling back,
the hush flexing its muscles.

I almost opened the door. I felt that too —
the lock daring me to turn it,
the weight of the air leaning hard against my chest.

But neither of us moved.

We just stood there —
two statues pretending not to be waiting —
except I heard you breathing.
And I know you heard me too.