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missing you poem

il est venu me prendre par la main
vous faites entendre
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
une fois ce gazon mou
à minuit
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
cette cuvette argentée antique du mien
j'ai vu la première poire
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
les poèts le disent
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final

 



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