If I knew today was the last,
I'd stand while the teacher is talking,
call her an ugly bitch while giving her the finger with both hands—
no, just one hand would be fine
since I'd grab yours with the other
and lead you out of the school.
If by some freak chance
the world ends like Noah's story,
I'd build no ark to save us—
we'd just go underwater,
laugh at the drowning people
and when it's time to breathe our last,
we'll waste it on a final kiss.
When the aliens come
and attack with death rays and lasers,
we'll pretend they're strobe lights
and dance like crazy
in the world's biggest nightclub;
we'll dance until we're all sweat—
until sweat is all that remains.
Watching the stars fall
sounds like a clichéd couple activity
so instead of watching them from afar
like sissy bitches would,
we'd dress up in dinosaur onesies
and chase each other in the crash zone
reenacting prehistoric extinction.
The world could be all kinds of hell
and I wouldn't give a shit
for anywhere could be heaven
when you are by my side
and when this god-forsaken world
finally ends like we always wished
I'd enjoy it with you.
YOU ARE READING
How They Loved
PoetryI have never loved. I think I never will. But to understand it, I need to write about it. Like a detached astronaut on the moon observing the earth, the following pieces are my attempts to represent love in words through my observations of the exper...
