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love poems

nós não éramos muitos
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
para a verdade, para o amor
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
quem é o corredor nos céus
o céu
há qualquer um lá
em possa
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
a escuridão rola para cima

 



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