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sex poem

velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
filhas do tempo
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
têm você não ouvido
felicidade
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim

 



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