Se penchant dans les après-midis, j'ai moulé mes filets tristes vers vos yeux océaniques. Là, dans la flamme la plus élevée ma solitude rallonge et flambe; Ses bras tournant comme un homme de noyade. J'envoie les signaux rouges à travers vos yeux absents qui ondulent comme la mer, ou la plage par un phare. Tu gardes seulement l'obscurité mon femelle éloignée; > de votre respect parfois, la côte de la crainte émerge.
Se penchant dans les après-midis, je jette mes filets tristes à cette mer qui est battue par vos yeux océaniques. Les oiseaux de la nuit picotent aux premières étoiles qui clignotent comme mon âme quand je t'aime. La nuit, galops sur ses glands bleus de perte ombragée de jument au-dessus de la terre.
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Matt Damon
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