cut by a piece of glass
in a eland of thorns
nor trocious ers seen in the ers
of certain ers like eyelids and eyes
capture your in my hands
s its oaks
tohread of snow.
Noal sugar, spirit
of the s,
ransomed
human blood, your kisses
send into exile
and a stroke of er, s of the sea,
s on t for you
surrounding t doors.
Nig spindles,
divided, material, nothing
but voiot
naked every day.
Over your breasts of motionless current,
over ys of firmness and er,
over the pride
of your naked hair
I to be, my love, no tears are
thrown
into ts we,
I to be, my love, alone h a syllable
of mangled silver, alone ip
of your breast of snow.
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