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Edgar Mirán
Poems
Feb 2014
The truth without
All those secrets that you kept,
All entitled to confess
that I loathed before we met,
that I wished for your caress.
All those secrets that you trade,
All those moments I adored,
when I dreamed of us before we fade
and I grasped your hand until we soared.
All those secrets are now gone,
only truth surrounds the wound,
conversations that let on
confrontations till’ we swooned.
Written by
Edgar Mirán
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