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prose poetry

vi que usted hunched y temblando en las piedras
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
hijas del tiempo
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
el movimiento de su cuerpo es como música
veo todos los ingenios humanos
pensamientos a través de mi cabeza
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
éste es el arsenal
en su tienda guardada
suavemente llorando
el mirar más allá

 



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