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thank you poem

tristes son que saben no amor
ámeme en el último, o si usted no
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
quién es el corredor en los cielos
calma como que segundo verano
las cortinas de la noche caían rápidamente
los días hypocritic
usted es hermoso y descolorado
hay uno que ese i amó una vez tanto
una pluma del acero
quizás

 



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