An Alphabet for the End of the World

A is for Ashes,

what we made of every home we loved too much to leave.

B is for Bread,

still warm on the table the night the sky fell in.

C is for Chlorine,

clinging to your skin after one last swim in a poisoned sea.

D is for Dusk,

the hour the birds forgot how to sing.

E is for Echo,

the way your name still bounces through my bones.

F is for Fever,

a dream we mistook for revolution.

G is for Grief,

stitched into the seams of everything we wore too long.

H is for Hands,

trembling with love, and with the weight of letting go.

I is for Ink,

spilled across the map where we meant to meet again.

J is for Joy,

the kind we carved out of rubble, just to prove we could.

K is for Kindling,

small moments we burned to stay warm one more hour.

L is for Lullaby,

whispered to the child we were before we knew.

M is for Memory,

the last true currency, traded in tears and broken songs.

N is for Nesting,

how we built hope into broken things.

O is for Oxygen,

rationed and remembered, like kisses we didn't give.

P is for Photographs,

curling at the corners, still pretending we were whole.

Q is for Quake,

the shudder before we admitted the truth.

R is for Rust,

how even metal remembers time.

S is for Salt,

in every wound, every wave, every goodbye.

T is for Tether,

the invisible thread that pulled me back to you.

U is for Umbra,

the shadow of the thing we never dared to name.

V is for Vessel,

how we carried grief in the shape of laughter.

W is for Wool,

knitted tightly around the silence, so we wouldn't hear it scream.

X is for Xylem,

the veins in trees that kept breathing for us when we forgot how.

Y is for Yield,

what we did, softly, when resistance became memory.

Z is for Zero,

the hour, the sum, the quiet before it all began again.