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erotic poetry

amo robar un rato lejos
y cómo podría usted sueńo de la reunión
quién ama la lluvia
uno por uno, como se va de un árbol
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
vea, de esta falsificación de él
tristes son que saben no amor
vi las nubes entre las colinas
la medianoche pasada
y va tan
cuando las horas del día se numeran
ámeme en el último, o si usted no
melancolía, azul era

 



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