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erotic poem

fleurs des bébés
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
la nuit était noire et triste
ne restez pas plus
bonne femme
nuit mystérieuse
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
dernier minuit
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
une fois ce gazon mou

 



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