shooting stars and bad dreams

when the fridge stops working, and the dishwasher floods the kitchen

when the drywall cracks beneath the weight

of childhood portraits anchored into its abyss

yeah, when the city crumbles, when the lights turn off

when the big one comes

and the asteroid wipes out half the human race

when we stumble through the blacked-out city, 12am, dizzy and numb

looking up at the stars

asking which one we’ll become

say that you’ll find me

in the fault lines, and used glass bottles

in stifled screams

bite your hand until it bleeds

spin around in circles, and wash the fuse go

in flashlight tag

in melting icicles and broken teeth

i’m gonna fix it

i’m gonna hold your hand, and take a deep breath

and make a to-do list

rip out the floors, scavenge for scraps among the wreckage

of things that used to be

hang the paintings on a stud line

frame the pictures new again

fix the wires

and make a cup of tea

when the walls start to shake

and the sky wraps it’s spindly fingers right around my throat

when my fingers are numb to the touch

and the world fades out to grey

and we’ll make the best of a bad deal

we’ll laugh and sit in awkward silence

we’ll hold hands, and i’ll think

that you’re worth a couple stars

and that’s nothing new

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