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fall poem

com os olhos meek, marrons
todo meu amor para meu doce
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
em e sobre
o justo e stately empregada doméstica, cujos olhos
era não para esse cheiro singular
escuro-eyed
traga-me a canção macia
e meu nome é truthful
a luz retirada
não gire sua cabeça
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
três anos há hoje

 



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