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writing poetry

você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
antes do saint de bronze solemn
caras bonitas, tragical
o sol está acima
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
desolado e solitário
todo meu amor para meu doce
estes corações foram tecidos de alegrias e de cuidados humanos

 



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