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break up poem

pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
gloom
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
peut-être
dans votre vol
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
je me demande où vous vivez
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin

 



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