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gothic poetry

la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me
portimi la canzone morbida
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi
non sia falso
ho visto la prima pera
scuro-eyed
ottanta anni hanno passato e più
rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
sono fevered
il giorno è fatto
come le aquile sul high alto

 



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