Pretend

 

Sunflowers sit in a vase

starting to wilt just enough

to lose their vibrancy.

 

A people sit in basements

far from secure, not meant

to be a living place in what for

some of them will be their last days.

 

Knitting, clinking wine glasses

as if their lives aren’t shattered.

 

Pavement above an empty space

littered with remains of yesterday.

Nails scattered from the hinges of

what seemed like solid oak doors

now hanging crooked by a thread.

 

A solitary man in a proper blue suit

strolls along the deserted street

satchel in hand

looking like he has not a care

in the world.

 

Because the world he knew

is nothing now.

 

And the world he sees

is so foreign to him.

 

That what was him is lost

in a future so desolate and

dark that all he has left is

to pretend.