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gothic poetry

truely
ella era una belleza en los días
aunque repine del amor, y rozadura de la razón
no esté enojado con mí
hice una pausa el marco abierto
un cielo que nunca ha sabido el sol, la luna o las estrellas
es usted despierto?
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
sobre ellas todas, mirando abajo

 



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