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sad poem

les petites prières blanches
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
le mouvement de votre corps est comme la musique
chère épouse
vous dites que vous m'aimez
foncé-eyed
je descends les chemins de jardin
tous en dedans et tous sans moi
voyez que je me donne vous
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre

 



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