Don't you know? A woman's love
neglects pride
the way fire
neglects the cries
of what it burns. My son,
even tomorrow
you will have today.
There are men who touch breasts
like the tops of skulls.
There are men who carry dreams
over mountains, the dead
on their backs.
neglects pride
the way fire
neglects the cries
of what it burns. My son,
even tomorrow
you will have today.
There are men who touch breasts
like the tops of skulls.
There are men who carry dreams
over mountains, the dead
on their backs.
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