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erotic poetry

me preguntan donde he estado
el movimiento de su cuerpo es como música
sueño dulce en sus sepulcros humildes
cuando el velo de los ojos se levanta
no ruego para la paz
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
no puedo ahora decirle

 



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