The beauty kills
stings
distorts the look does turn elsewhere, on
shores up mediocre
breath of warm wind
on strips of land where neither you nor I will rest our palms.
The beauty that comes out of the frame that breaks down the barriers
you and holds out his hand,
caresses you and shakes,
then says goodbye, goodbye, goodbye and again.
I met her one day and stumbled
in myself.
unsettling,
the purity of the disease.
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