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teenage love poem

dê-me
travails da terra
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
do assoalho ao teto
em seu vôo
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
glass-blower do tempo
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame

 



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