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suicide poetry

los días hypocritic
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
oí el viento todo el dia
entre las montañas vagué
algunos días más ventosos
tristemente hablando
era una diosa ere el mármol me encontró
no permanezca no más
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí

 



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