If the World Ends, Text Me
it is 11:42 p.m. and i am sure you are asleep
but still i draft the message: i just wanted you to know—
then erase it. again.
you are the only person i trust
to tell me when my shirt’s on backwards
or if the apocalypse already started.
today a bus driver waved me across the street
and i thought: that’s how small miracles look now.
so i saved it to tell you.
i scroll and scroll. your name, a lighthouse.
even when unread.
a siren passes. not a metaphor.
a real one.
i think about calling.
i think about what silence says.
if the world ends tonight,
you’ll wake to unread words
that almost said love.
Sean Cho A