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erotic poetry

non eravamo molti
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
ascolti il mare suonante
un miglio dietro
al lato di un campo raso
li ha fatti mai sentono parlare
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
veda che mi dò voi
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
scuro-eyed
ho guardato sul cielo glorious

 



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