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best friend poem

von der Sonne noch Sterne
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
zu, was eine Frau sie geliebt vergleicht
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
Melancholie, Blau war sie
wenn ich sehr sicher war


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