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broken heart poem

dans ma main je me tiens
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
beau
ceux-ci soient
la étoile-poussière et lumière vaporeuse
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
peu de parc que je traverse

 



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