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lost love poem

la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
era una bellezza nei giorni
felicità
abbiamo nessuno shame?
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
indietro, giri indietro
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
la notte era nera e drear
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro

 



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