the end

one week,

seven days,

that’s what we’ve got left.

it’s always been known that this day would come

but living it presently?

something i never thought i’d do.

i saw it coming;

the stars started dying out, one by one,

until the cloudless night sky

was as dark as the smog

filling the day.

the only light we get

is the blue from our phones

and the occasional flare from the sun.

it’s gotten so hot,

and my grandmother recalls stories of polar bears,

but i don’t think they ever really existed.

they’re like unicorns.

apparently it used to snow here? now it hardly rains

and when it does, it’s best to stay indoors.

not to avoid getting wet,

but to avoid the possible chemical reactions.

six days, hysteria.

five days, regret.

four days, remorse,

three days, forget.

two days, it’s burning.

one more day, it’s cold.

the sun’s moving backwards,

there’s snow once more,

my grandmother’s crying,

“what a beautiful way to go”.

the children are playing, a strange sight to see,

and the snow isn’t burning, but their bodies are free.

they’re freezing, i see now, they’re turning so blue.

grandmama grows quiet, and looks out the glass,

goes “sweet one, i love you, but our time has passed”

the snow keeps on falling and we cuddle up,

she tries to tell stories, but i can’t keep up.

we’re shivering and crying, but she’s leaving smiling,

the world as we know it has no longer more,

for we are all knocking

on heaven’s sweet door.