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On flirtait tellement, q’j’avais plus l’temps, pour écrire.
En quarante-huit heures, j’t’avais d’jà, sur ma cuisse.
En soixante-douze heures, j’ai réussi à tout gâcher, à mettre le clim.
Quand ça commence, ça s’termine, aussi vite.
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                                                        27 readings
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