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good bye poem

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
pensées par ma tête
à minuit
son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
le maître des destins humains suis moi
j'ai dit
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles

 



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