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■ neînsemnat, aproape invizibil, stinghereai într-un colÈ› al muzeului de vise pierdute ![]()
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2017-05-21 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
this wall is made from too many bricks
there are different colours in every of them together they came to shadow us all but the brick is not this, the brick builds no wall I wonder if wonder was ever a floor with shines, and creaks, and knubby to sole like the shapes of a woman, like the touch of a soul the kiss of the skin to the floor full of doors you dropped your keys near the brick-up window it’s night outside, and cold, and there is you in the dark, looking more than ever to bosom inside where the music is on, dim and warm you came home earlier, I’m the moon of a your sun with my hair flooding your shoulders, and the world still lingering inside of your eyes, as you roll up your sleeves like a musician covered in flour and cheese I’m better tonight, you say and I don’t know where or why or how did I become your tree as you, my ground, my wind, my rain, my stars open your arms as far
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