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I would remain half closed
in one only round bracket,
a belly from a line,
as if I were a small fetus
obscure to the world.
In this way I could save myself
from the hook you throw the first day,
not the second.
But I am still more hungry
of a rare steel caress
than of flesh
and I come to you
for the kiss
bleeding me to death.
Emilia, your poetry is beautiful and moving.