I wait for you under the white rain, blood flowing down from heaven. Time for us doesn't matter, as with so much else that has lost it many centuries ago.
Brick and concrete walls are covered with glass. Bright lights approaching, and then fly away into the distance. Bang! Bang! Open glass buds, and on the lips appear familiar taste of metal and salt. Flying around the glass dust, shimmering, and whirling, she falls on the wet asphalt.
People around do not have faces. This is the only mask their own worries. They all just broken puppets. They shout and swear, unable to understand that each of them, as this city has come to an end. Everything freezes in the glass, like in the resin or thick pudding.
I wait for you under a white rainfall. Wheel of minibuses and buses are confused in flexible glass stems of my flowers. And all these passengers will soon become one of these flowers. I feel like with your every step my heart begins to pound in my chest even faster. Every meter, my breathing