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break up poem

musing, entre le coucher du soleil et l'obscurité
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
il est venu me prendre par la main
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
l'obscurité
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
bonne femme
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre

 



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