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erotic poem

eu estou morrendo
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
disse
eu não queimo nenhum incense
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
ao amante passionate
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
era não para esse cheiro singular
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
temos nós nenhum shame?

 



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