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contemporary poetry

short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
je vous ai détesté
donc je ne puis pas
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
le parfum est venu
mais alas, rêves justes
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
peu de parc que je traverse
vous vous rappelez
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon

 



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