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erotic poetry

aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
el aire es como una mariposa
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
pueden hablar de amor en una cabaña
debajo de un árbol de la castaña que se separa
perro de la guinga y el gato del calicó
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
ruédeme abajo por el prado

 



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