First they just watch,
nonchalantly.
Then they fake detachment.
How long can this last?
Too long.
What next?
They don't care.

But do you remember how we went,
hand in hand,
to pick the dead flowers of Hiroshima?
How fragile they were
and how they turned into ashes
as soon as we touched them.
And we waited
for the new world to explode above us.

And only I was waiting
for the blessing of the dead gods.
It never came.

But last night I woke up
and saw an angel.
He was standing by my bed,
then he dissolved.
And I whispered:
"Good-bye..."