Blows. Behind of a window. Blows. And you don't write. You don't answer. To me. You don't write and don't answer. As if me. At all. Doesn't exist. Doesn't exist.
And I created. Letters. Letters. To you. As promised. And day after day Or night behind night I wrote them to notes by hand.
You promised. Just for a month. Asked me not. Not to forget you. I composed to you letters, Sometimes forgetting to sleep.
And now. You don't write. You don't answer. As if me. Doesn't exist. It isn't important. It doesn't matter. Despair. To me from a window. It is a little. Blows.
Berioska
Blows
© Copyright: Дресвянников Даниил, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №214031000907
Свидетельство о публикации №214031000907
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