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short love poem

o ar é como uma borboleta
bonito
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
simplesmente falando
eu sei năo onde
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
agite
pôde tę-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
melhore do que o granito
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
o que era ele os motores ditos
em setembro
vocę está desobstruído
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas

 



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