Незабудки

The night is longer than it should be again. The phone is like a self-deception detector: it seems that one call would make things easier, but in reality, it only makes the emptiness ring louder. Phrases go round and round in circles - ‘don't call, don't text,’ ‘call, text’ - like a battle between the heart and pride, where fatigue wins. The rain outside the window sounds in time with the inner echo, and even the AMG from the chorus is not about speed, but about the desire to get away from this feeling.

There is no tragedy here, just the familiar mess: when love is gone, but habit hasn't realised it yet.