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lost love poem

penso spesso alla città bella
è andato
la nerezza
la penso splendido giusto
migliori che il granito
chi chiamerà il vento
all'alba, ha detto
scuro-eyed
dialo
sole e vento e battimento del mare
era un oysterman giovane alto
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato

 



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