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erotic poem

porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
amo robar un rato lejos
quién ama la lluvia
no sea falso
el cielo
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta
placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
como vela blanca

 



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