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gothic poetry

nunca em toda minha vida
escute o mar soando
é ido
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
em sua barraca guardada
este é o arsenal
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
havia um momento em anos anteriores
agora quando meus bordos viverem
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
eu não queimo nenhum incense

 



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