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love poetry chat

ésta es la nave de la perla
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
un pensamiento dulce solemne
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
calma como que segundo verano
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla

 



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