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death poem

je descends les chemins de jardin
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
regardez avec les yeux longing et savez que je suivrai
ombres à ailes balayant près
prenez mes bracelets
quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
je l'aime

 



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