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i love you poem

velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
é frequentemente não assim?
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
há uma hora do descanso calmo
travails da terra
doce e forte
eu detestei-o
porque assim sad meu encantador?
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro

 



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