Gateway Arts the to Rimbaud, hands frozen to keep these pages barely, mist envelops the Seine as the veil of a bride, I can still see his silhouette, high heels, long legs, advancing slowly toward the other shore. A shadow on the words and I got up under his white borsalino her bright eyes, I no longer cold, I'll finally see and feel in your neck, the scent is missing from my present. Envelope that past, take me to the other side sublime bride flirting going on platforms.
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