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short love poem

era muitas e muito um ano há
macio como a cama na terra
talvez
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
como ela
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
como uma vela branca
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
um com você

 



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