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fall poem

apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
a música i ouvido com você era mais do que a música
o alvorecer era verde maçã
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe

 



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