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teenage love poem

dentro de minha mão eu prendo
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
alguns dias mais ventosos
diga-me mais menos ou diga-me mais
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
o ar é como uma borboleta
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
eu vi com olhos abertos
quando eu era um menino na faculdade

 



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