Start writing for free on quadernoC.c.p.sizgia
Fuimos desastre perfecto,
sin nada que pedirle al futuro.
Vino y rosas, sexo duro,
caricias al intelecto.
Del suelo al cielo directo,
pero tú, adicto a perder;
yo, sin fe para creer,
ansiosa por etiquetas.
Nos colocó la careta
y así dejamos de ser.
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