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narrative poetry

felicidade
nós não éramos muitos
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso
deve ir para trás, disse
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
mulher boa
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
material da lua
eu penso d esplêndido justo
o oeste velho, o tempo velho
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade

 



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