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good bye poem

mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
en ce moment
pour vêtir la pensée ardente
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
avec les yeux doux et bruns

 



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