I used to think the world would always go on,
even after we destroyed all our race had built,
even after we were all gone.
But maybe we’re really burning it all to the ground,
and it will all be dead and lost, just another dead rock
spinning in empty space.
It’s snowing. Fat and wet flakes. It’s after 10 on Monday.
The world looks clean. The world is silent. Crunch of feet.
The girl I adore said: “I love you.”
Moments as it runs away. Before the bloodshed and destruction.
I remember her warm hand in mine. Her arms squeezing tight.
So few left. We blew it.