Denis Balin. (№ 326570)

Was there love in this black-pracharna edge...
Where, since you had a night like this - though vykoli eyes?
Accidentally stripped this life to you and me,
on then and then, - what will remain after us?
In December, as dark as dark in the poetic line,
and words like the tracks, indifferent to who created them.
Write me Vkontakte Pro-life as you're there,
how many years, how many winters, how many close friends and foes.