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love poems

no me quemo ningún incienso
con rojo de la sangre de los labios y el corazón de la piedra
ella debe ir detrás, ella dijo
vea, ellos vuelven
hace tres años hoy
tristemente hablando
suave como la cama en la tierra
ese año
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció

 



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