Even now, as I hole up in the middle of my bed,
Reeking of pride at the duplicity of my lips, it
Oozes in and makes my eyes pop. Here it comes,
Hurtling between my breasts, a three-leaf scent;
Why don't I know which one is mine?
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Le Petit Biographie
- Alexia
- I laugh, I live, I think, I write (not necessarily in that order)... padam, padam indeed, Ms. Piaf. This poetry is almost always spontaneous and almost rarely edited.
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