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i love you poem

eighty anos passaram, e mais
o ar é como uma borboleta
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
era năo para esse cheiro singular
nos salőes do sono você vagueou perto
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
simplesmente falando
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
em todas as coisas năo faladas de

 



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