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math poem

una milla detrás
suavemente llorando
deje el unsaid encantador de las palabras
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
soy el viento que duda
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado
solitario y solitario
para arropar el pensamiento ardiente
tormenta
tome mis pulseras

 



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