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teenage love poem

usted está claro
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
dentro de mi mano sostengo
soy el viento que duda
una vez este césped suave
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
dios
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
a alguno los dioses gordos
hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas

 



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