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sex poem

porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
um pensamento doce solemn
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
um com você
e com o pássaro humming
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
são você acordado?

 



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