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teen love poem

cuál guarda
el elevar, como el viento sopló
hay cualquiera allí
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
por lo tanto no puedo
el aire es como una mariposa
fui arriba y abajo de las calles
una historia muy notable esto es
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
antes del santo de bronce solemne
ese año
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes

 



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