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free online love poem

de nos endroits cachés
fleurs des bébés
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
avec le coucher du soleil
elle connaît un dégagement bon marché
très bien, vous libéraux
ne restez pas plus
souffleur de verre de temps
levé des morts
je suis le vent qui hésite
si perdu
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement

 



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