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lost love poem

mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
tristes son que saben no amor
la agonía del tener demasiada energía
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre

 



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