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black poetry

l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
je me demande où vous vivez
leurs beaux cheveux
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
l'air est comme un papillon
je suis fevered
il y avait un strangeness sur vos lèvres
la noblesse de la mort encore
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
je suis une femme

 



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