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erotic poem

se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
material da lua
nós não éramos muitos
quem ama a chuva
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingĂĽeta
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
olhar além
vocĂŞ diz que vocĂŞ me ama
até sua janela da câmara
quando, cheio do amor morno e ansioso

 



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