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erotic poetry

glooms des vivre-chênes
pourquoi
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
calme en tant que que deuxième été
nos moments plaisants volent
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
dans la terre silencieuse

 



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