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Agachou para tomar impulso e saltou decidido naquele abismo cheio de nada, com os olhos fechados, sem esperar mudar de planos, sem esperar por nenhum socorro, por nenhuma chispa mínima de fogo que o pudesse fazer re-acreditar, re-esperar, re-sonhar. Saltou sorridente, e apertou bem os braços em contra o corpo para que nenhum clavo ardiendo o impedisse de chegar onde queria; enquanto o 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xVu8s1lZmTlDcf7Bn5ITqOZVO28/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xVu8s1lZmTlDcf7Bn5ITqOZVO28/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/MqmNqcaYkFQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2011/09/tu-viento.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQBSXs7fCp7ImA9WhdTE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-4227570741251271392</id><published>2011-07-11T13:00:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T13:05:58.504+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-11T13:05:58.504+02:00</app:edited><title>Acidez Suprema</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/4227570741251271392/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=4227570741251271392&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4227570741251271392?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4227570741251271392?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/Zfc78j_DIJI/acidez-suprema.html" title="Acidez Suprema" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tGaJ0J5JTeY/ThooWv1viGI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Lvt96HD_TRs/s72-c/Propue6.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">Vete por ahí, amor de mi vida entera, con tus inquietudes, tu falta de paz de espíritu y tu sensatez escasa. Vete por las calles donde te pierdes ebria de tus dudas, intentando encontrarte en cualquier transeúnte que te lleve a un lugar que tú ni siquiera sabes si existe o es fruto de tu imaginación. ¿Quién conocerá las ideas de tu cabeza? Vete tú, pasada alegría mía, mi dedicada hasta el día en 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oe61Kmn0Ynhfc_ja5mcKIRYKVqA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oe61Kmn0Ynhfc_ja5mcKIRYKVqA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/Zfc78j_DIJI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2011/07/acidez-suprema.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYBRHk8fyp7ImA9WhZVEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-8949314587848383386</id><published>2011-05-24T03:39:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T03:55:55.777+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-24T03:55:55.777+02:00</app:edited><title>Enquanto o sol não vem...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/8949314587848383386/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=8949314587848383386&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8949314587848383386?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8949314587848383386?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/g4GsOX8ugMA/enquanto-o-sol-nao-vem.html" title="Enquanto o sol não vem..." /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">Também não vale a pena fingir um equilíbrio que não tenho. A gente tem que descobrir maneiras – sejam quais forem – de ficarmos fortes. (Caio)http://danicabrerablog.blogspot.com/
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/etiAPpDK4x8hWQI3EZP7w6xF7tc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/etiAPpDK4x8hWQI3EZP7w6xF7tc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/eL8WPzu1v1o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2011/04/cambio-de-plumaje.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUBQHs9fip7ImA9WhZREEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-7105731710090218580</id><published>2011-04-06T14:50:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T14:50:51.566+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-06T14:50:51.566+02:00</app:edited><title>Sobre as Vésperas de uma Ciranda</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/7105731710090218580/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=7105731710090218580&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/7105731710090218580?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/7105731710090218580?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/uEx6IG1B3YI/sobre-as-vesperas-de-uma-ciranda.html" title="Sobre as Vésperas de uma Ciranda" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TZxgI0Vx0hI/AAAAAAAABVw/vlnBb0XsSQE/s72-c/My%20Uploaded%20Photos.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><content type="html">Quantas vezes chamei a primavera em voz alta, quando ainda chovia, quando o chão se cobria de neve. Quantas vezes me perdi no tempo contando horas, semanas, meses e assim chegou o tempo, meu bem. Faz calor hoje, as calçadas estão coberta de flores, o pólen dança com o vento e cobre tudo de amarelo. E por dentro eu repito o teu nome, e penso no que será quando for minha a grande Madrid, penso na 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/352A_2cV06kDsqVhJvKewdci9-Q/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/352A_2cV06kDsqVhJvKewdci9-Q/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/uEx6IG1B3YI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2011/04/sobre-as-vesperas-de-uma-ciranda.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YHQ3s_fCp7ImA9Wx9VEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-1180341481013666070</id><published>2011-01-27T04:16:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T04:32:12.544+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-27T04:32:12.544+01:00</app:edited><title>Carta ao Pé do Ouvido</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/1180341481013666070/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=1180341481013666070&amp;isPopup=true" title="12 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/1180341481013666070?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/1180341481013666070?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/2b7TUOfJnbc/meu-amor-tu-nao-estaras-so-quando.html" title="Carta ao Pé do Ouvido" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TUDl8mDzDMI/AAAAAAAABUo/6DZJuhTk5wY/s72-c/tumblr_la4xkobWAa1qzr6ooo1_500_large.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>12</thr:total><content type="html"> Meu amor, Tu não estarás só quando levantares pela manhã, uma dessas congeladas da gigante Madrid, quando lavares o teu rosto com a água fria e te olhares no espelho, como quem aposta tudo o que tem num jogo de roleta, sem saber o que te espera num novo dia. O resultado será sempre o melhor se tu decidires assim. A sorte é complemento dos que amam. Eu, aqui, farei o mesmo, e comigo tu estarás. 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HSL3ECMjTPlk0BsoXmLkls7Gv04/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HSL3ECMjTPlk0BsoXmLkls7Gv04/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/2b7TUOfJnbc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2011/01/meu-amor-tu-nao-estaras-so-quando.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04HQHs-cCp7ImA9Wx9VFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-7497074579591269663</id><published>2010-12-19T02:45:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T03:05:31.558+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-01T03:05:31.558+01:00</app:edited><title>Agridoce</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/7497074579591269663/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=7497074579591269663&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/7497074579591269663?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/7497074579591269663?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/jCucVRM7ghM/agridoce.html" title="Agridoce" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TQ1oh17mpFI/AAAAAAAABUQ/2rkeYd0qzgs/s72-c/refle_comu.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total><content type="html"> Eu quero sair do convencional,dos trilhos que desenharam para mim nesse chão, porque sou avião. E avião traça a sua própria rota perfeita. Quem olha de desde abaixo sempre o vê como se ele fosse em linha reta, mas não. A linha é reta porque é ele quem a faz.Eu quero me esquecer das palavras bem conectadas, aquelas que eu sei que fazem com que tudo o que eu diga seja aceito sempre. Eu gosto 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XojsPD4-_HAWSOk9KeNr6y79-lI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XojsPD4-_HAWSOk9KeNr6y79-lI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/jCucVRM7ghM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/12/agridoce.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AGR3syeCp7ImA9Wx9TF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-8097001950657717987</id><published>2010-11-26T04:05:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T04:22:06.590+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-26T04:22:06.590+01:00</app:edited><title>Verde, que te quero verde...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/8097001950657717987/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=8097001950657717987&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8097001950657717987?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8097001950657717987?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/itON4Co42BE/verde-que-te-quero-verde.html" title="Verde, que te quero verde..." /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TO8lQdq0xeI/AAAAAAAABUI/5Gt5bwyW8So/s72-c/dibujos-paisajes-arboles-p.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><content type="html">Sentei-me como todos os dias, meia hora antes de começar o expediente, para tomar coragem e enfrentar as tão suadas oito horas correndo de um lado pro outro, entre sorrisos, caras-feias, cumprimentos e taças de cafés. Acendi um cigarro, o primeiro do dia, mesmo sabendo que a nicotina tem derramado em mim tanto cansaço que parece que ando numa corrida de São Silvestre eterna. Li o adesivo colado 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EUaL9MyKjPmN8VI2CkghUgo_JNk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EUaL9MyKjPmN8VI2CkghUgo_JNk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/itON4Co42BE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/11/verde-que-te-quero-verde.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMGQnY6eip7ImA9Wx5bEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-6360130153000584387</id><published>2010-10-28T04:22:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T04:37:03.812+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-28T04:37:03.812+02:00</app:edited><title>Mais Uma Pra Ti</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/6360130153000584387/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=6360130153000584387&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/6360130153000584387?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/6360130153000584387?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/-Z2vFIx2FYM/mais-uma-pra-ti.html" title="Mais Uma Pra Ti" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TMjha3NHDfI/AAAAAAAABTw/ZyBt156bT_M/s72-c/amor-verdadero.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">Respiro fundo e te beijo. Te beijo porque eres digna de ser beijada por todos os dias da tua vida. Te beijo e te cuido, porque tu me cuidas também, e porque me dediquei a cuidarte desde o dia em que te amei. Acaricio teu rosto, te beijo otra vez nos olhos, na tua testa e me aplico em sentir o cheiro que se esconde debaixo dos teus cabelos. Toco o fim das tuas costas e noto toda a tua pele viva, 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NCITR9x6_24qHMzLbKFAlcKYw3o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NCITR9x6_24qHMzLbKFAlcKYw3o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/-Z2vFIx2FYM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/10/mais-uma-pra-ti.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYFQ3g_eip7ImA9Wx9WE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-3223946759717638364</id><published>2010-09-16T06:41:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T00:15:12.642+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-18T00:15:12.642+01:00</app:edited><title>Prova Real</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/3223946759717638364/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=3223946759717638364&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/3223946759717638364?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/3223946759717638364?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/d1_IyUNHCWU/tenho-o-peito-cheio-preciso-gritar-no.html" title="Prova Real" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TJGi3wIWMhI/AAAAAAAABTo/XNkkONzOvec/s72-c/dibujo_de_amor-9701.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">Tenho o peito cheio, preciso gritar no branco.Tenho as janelas fechadas desejosas de se abrirem quanto antes. Uma tormenta contida por paredes de catolina. Tenho os braços ansiosos buscando qualquer coisa tua para me agarrar e me sentir inteira. É que quando não estás aqui sou como se fosse metade. E deve ser porque é  verdade isso de que foi por fúria que os deuses que nos partiram em dois, nos 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8ttNgtuK4k0Ilexx5Gns9AL1LQk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8ttNgtuK4k0Ilexx5Gns9AL1LQk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/d1_IyUNHCWU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/09/tenho-o-peito-cheio-preciso-gritar-no.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08NRnszfip7ImA9Wx5QE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-8863027942805697210</id><published>2010-08-25T03:36:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T00:58:17.586+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-02T00:58:17.586+02:00</app:edited><title>...E tu, quem és?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/8863027942805697210/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=8863027942805697210&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8863027942805697210?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8863027942805697210?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/gBDABO0v5xs/e-tu-quem-es.html" title="...E tu, quem és?" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/THR21sWu6fI/AAAAAAAABR0/OEmEBUJyEYo/s72-c/FILE0095.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">Eu ando pelo mundo consumindo emoções . Sou como um morto vivificado pela bondosa ilusão de finais felizes construídos milindrosamente por mim mesma. Sou um animal de olfato apurado, emocionívoro - feroz em quanto à minha fome, veloz e suave quanto à minha presa, sagaz e prudente quanto à perseguí-la.Sou forasteiro onde quer que eu esteja, sou um vaso de flor numa praça em Kabul. Sou cantiga de 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JGXzwBj6zsBDpV_dxBzv-EXj4_k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JGXzwBj6zsBDpV_dxBzv-EXj4_k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/gBDABO0v5xs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/08/e-tu-quem-es.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkIAR3kzfyp7ImA9Wx5TF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-2096962301130997211</id><published>2010-08-01T22:36:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T01:15:46.787+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-02T01:15:46.787+02:00</app:edited><title>Sobre o Que Não Me Interessa...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/2096962301130997211/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=2096962301130997211&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/2096962301130997211?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/2096962301130997211?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/Jg6S-_PoExc/sobre-o-que-nao-me-interessa.html" title="Sobre o Que Não Me Interessa..." /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TFX_8rRXcEI/AAAAAAAABRo/ztrRAutqMM8/s72-c/coraje.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><content type="html">Eles podem gritar, berrar, se debater e se jogar no chão. O meu troféu é meu e dele eu não vou largar. Eles podem se reunir para me maldizer, pintar meu nome na esquina de casa, escrever meu nome no Judas da Semana-Santa – por certo, que semana é essa tão santa, que se usa um dia santo desses para falar coisas más sobre outros? Eles podem trocar meu nome por ¨desgosto cabrera¨, ¨vergonha¨, que a 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IOLaezC3GCy1cpKuzD5oI2cEdII/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IOLaezC3GCy1cpKuzD5oI2cEdII/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/Jg6S-_PoExc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/08/sobre-o-que-nao-me-interessa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4GSXkyfSp7ImA9Wx9RFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-8923107321585047866</id><published>2010-07-21T15:57:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T03:28:48.795+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-17T03:28:48.795+01:00</app:edited><title>Eso Nos Llena</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/8923107321585047866/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=8923107321585047866&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8923107321585047866?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/8923107321585047866?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/0ocxtv30fLo/eso-nos-llena.html" title="Eso Nos Llena" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Despertamos todos os dias porque temos um sonho.O perseguimos e lutamos por ele.Sonhamos porque temos o direito de ser feliz,E que ninguém nos tire esse direito -De crer nas possibilidades,Projetar a vida, e conseguir;Porque somos iguais a todos os demaisE sentimos amor como tu também sentes,E isso nos enche.Ser feliz nos enche.Por isso não nos calamos, não pensamos calar,Esconder-se tampouco,
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bCRw-lH0miWwg5weqKtHVwJO7qY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bCRw-lH0miWwg5weqKtHVwJO7qY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/0ocxtv30fLo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/07/eso-nos-llena.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MGQHw6fip7ImA9WxFaEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-1673140428519101586</id><published>2010-07-16T02:30:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T02:50:21.216+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-16T02:50:21.216+02:00</app:edited><title>Eletrocardiograma Vital</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/1673140428519101586/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=1673140428519101586&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/1673140428519101586?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/1673140428519101586?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/2__jC9LHlLI/eletrocardiograma-vital.html" title="Eletrocardiograma Vital" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TD-o254bi_I/AAAAAAAABRY/11SMAmELYks/s72-c/3322485661_40b8d28a56.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total><content type="html">Eu já estive no final de uma nuvem em dias de calor desértico, e chovia sobre quem estava ao meu lado, mas sobre mim não. E já me faltou o sexto número para que o meu bilhete de loteria fosse o premiado, e a minha boca sentiu o gosto amargo de ser quase vencedor. Eu corri para parada de ônibus e quando chegava, ofegante e suada, a condução partia. Meu pai se foi um pouco antes da minha primeira 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aCDeBcMHlk3ceNTgXhvs1fOzigw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aCDeBcMHlk3ceNTgXhvs1fOzigw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/2__jC9LHlLI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/07/eletrocardiograma-vital.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4GQXkyeip7ImA9WxFVGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-873035063188619462</id><published>2010-06-18T05:26:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T06:05:20.792+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-18T06:05:20.792+02:00</app:edited><title>Sobre Orgulho, Ego e Coisas Chatas...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/873035063188619462/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=873035063188619462&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/873035063188619462?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/873035063188619462?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/QiVbTksL5Uo/eu-creio-que-essa-estrada-deveria.html" title="Sobre Orgulho, Ego e Coisas Chatas..." /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TBrpgLJOYqI/AAAAAAAABRQ/8YJhwVNl4Mw/s72-c/Sobre+la+felicidad.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total><content type="html">Eu creio que essa estrada deveria envergonhar-se de separar o teu corpo da minha cama e dos meus braços. E penso que seria tao bom se nao tivéssemos que esperar o tempo passar ao seu bel-prazer, me fazendo sentir a mesma dor que tu também sentes por estarmos (ainda) submetidas à ele. Eu acho que deveria ser assim: que quando tu estás longe, os dias deveriam se resumir em segundos e milésimos de 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/d8so8d5hxaTWoufYiaTAOthB1SI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/d8so8d5hxaTWoufYiaTAOthB1SI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/QiVbTksL5Uo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/06/eu-creio-que-essa-estrada-deveria.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YEQnk7fyp7ImA9WxFWEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-5575775497023964489</id><published>2010-05-29T02:51:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-29T03:05:03.707+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-29T03:05:03.707+02:00</app:edited><title>Sobre Escaladas...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/5575775497023964489/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=5575775497023964489&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/5575775497023964489?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/5575775497023964489?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/-i0-gcLV2fY/todos-os-dias-subo-correndo-colina-com.html" title="Sobre Escaladas..." /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/TABllUBhYYI/AAAAAAAABRA/cOuPi4oOOZU/s72-c/76193677.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">Todos os dias subo correndo a colina com os tijolos da nossa casa nas mãos, um à um.  No fim do dia me deito nessa cama de menos de metro e meio, que nos cabe perfeitamente, e ouço a tua voz, descanso todo o feliz cansaço de poder fazer o-nosso. Respiro ofegante e sorrindo porque é por nós, amor, porque a sorte sorriu pra mim outra vez desde o dia que te encontrei. Dessa vez ela sorri pros nossos
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/14BZUVts8OE1YvJfwiSBVXGi7NA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/14BZUVts8OE1YvJfwiSBVXGi7NA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/-i0-gcLV2fY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/05/todos-os-dias-subo-correndo-colina-com.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUMRns6eip7ImA9WxFRGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-2927960087510314361</id><published>2010-05-04T03:42:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T03:58:07.512+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-04T03:58:07.512+02:00</app:edited><title>Confissões de Um Sábado à Noite</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/2927960087510314361/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=2927960087510314361&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/2927960087510314361?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/2927960087510314361?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/LJKhPL9rvg4/confissoes-de-um-sabado-noite.html" title="Confissões de Um Sábado à Noite" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S998vWPblPI/AAAAAAAABQ4/P17mQKmu4lc/s72-c/u17807123.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total><content type="html">Eu me sentei na esquina da tua rua pra sonhar um futuro bonito.E caminhei sozinha por ruas que caminhamos juntas pra tentar trazer você de volta. Eu passei na porta da tua casa e esperei você aparecer na janela da sala, mas você não estava ali. Eu te procurei nos bares de meia luz da cidade velha e você não estava sentada em nenhum deles. Você estava aqui, dentro. Tu estás sempre comigo.O sol 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P0y2-4cu1XlxysWYhZLPxHuvOJQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/P0y2-4cu1XlxysWYhZLPxHuvOJQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/LJKhPL9rvg4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/05/confissoes-de-um-sabado-noite.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYEQ3k_eyp7ImA9WxFREk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-289893329508589363</id><published>2010-04-25T03:54:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T21:18:22.743+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-25T21:18:22.743+02:00</app:edited><title>Pra Você Que Eu Amo</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/289893329508589363/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=289893329508589363&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/289893329508589363?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/289893329508589363?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/8Zxet_G4q6A/pra-voce-que-eu-amo.html" title="Pra Você Que Eu Amo" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S9OjuzJKpBI/AAAAAAAABQw/BkHQ4RLZW8M/s72-c/DSC00516.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><content type="html">Sou uma coleção de marcas tuas, meu bem. Tu não refletes nos meus olhos só ao estar diante de mim. Eu sou você refletida quando não estás aqui, e o meu riso delata que eu encontrei o amor, e não um amorzinho desses qualquer, dessas paixõezinhas baratas que a gente vê enlouquecer as pessoas por mundo afora. O que eu encontrei, senhores, não foi um amor desses melodramáticos, de murros e beijos, de
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1V6Nov1hsE7S1vRtP8JtmOMKGSk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1V6Nov1hsE7S1vRtP8JtmOMKGSk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/8Zxet_G4q6A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/04/pra-voce-que-eu-amo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQCSHY4fCp7ImA9WxFSEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-2682548184428170711</id><published>2010-04-07T01:53:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T02:49:29.834+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-04-12T02:49:29.834+02:00</app:edited><title>Agora que tu vais outra vez,</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/2682548184428170711/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=2682548184428170711&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/2682548184428170711?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/2682548184428170711?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/lBGzwHFVB1I/agora-que-tu-vais-outra-vez.html" title="Agora que tu vais outra vez," /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S8Jt1EEJakI/AAAAAAAABQo/u3UCEQ6C21M/s72-c/DSC00525.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><content type="html">...o que resta é a sensação da tua caricia no meu rosto cheio me memórias tuas. Quando me olho no espelho é de ti que eu me recordo. Fica a minha cama marcada pelo teu corpo, as paredes do meu quarto ecoando a tua voz e a minha expectativa inocente de que a qualquer momento o interfone vai soar e vai ser você dizendo que não precisas mais ter que me deixar aqui. De que vai ser você lá embaixo 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2zMW5kQxVJoLT30kj32eI7Tu9t0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2zMW5kQxVJoLT30kj32eI7Tu9t0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/lBGzwHFVB1I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/04/agora-que-tu-vais-outra-vez.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8BR3Y_fCp7ImA9WxBbEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-4361175000064926488</id><published>2010-03-11T00:57:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T02:27:36.844+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-03-11T02:27:36.844+01:00</app:edited><title>Mais Uma De Amor</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/4361175000064926488/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=4361175000064926488&amp;isPopup=true" title="11 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4361175000064926488?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4361175000064926488?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/Pfl-XPwuxIg/mais-uma-de-amor.html" title="Mais Uma De Amor" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S5hCubKRdCI/AAAAAAAABO8/tDZOVeHlll8/s72-c/kiss+chaqueta+gela.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>11</thr:total><content type="html">O teu amor encheu o meu peito num momento em que o queriam transformar em um jarro vazio, por pura maldade. Te encontrar foi como descobrir uma fonte de águas no ponto mais seco do deserto mais quente que eu já ousei atravessar. Fechei meus olhos pra descansar debaixo de uma sombra qualquer e vi cores, tantas cores, mais de sete, e decidi me levantar pra te dizer que o teu amor trouxe graça pro 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IumOw9-1OYaY-y_tVbZdazPAN9g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IumOw9-1OYaY-y_tVbZdazPAN9g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/Pfl-XPwuxIg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/03/mais-uma-de-amor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MBSXY9eyp7ImA9WxBWGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-4602441872705167239</id><published>2010-02-11T00:34:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T00:44:18.863+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-02-11T00:44:18.863+01:00</app:edited><title>Pra Desafogar</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/4602441872705167239/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=4602441872705167239&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4602441872705167239?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4602441872705167239?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/loMuG-fjZBk/pra-desafogar.html" title="Pra Desafogar" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S3NElgxIiCI/AAAAAAAABO0/e03ToqAXeSw/s72-c/42-19696375.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><content type="html">Não sei se descer as escadarias desse edifício e ir sem rumo já que não estás aqui, até que essa grandeza deixe de me sufocar. Não sei se permanecer aqui, tomando assim uma decisão maquiada de autocontrole pra te ligar e frear metade dessa sede que tenho, me limitando a dizer apenas que sinto muito a tua falta, especialmente hoje, misteriosamente mais hoje do que ontem, a ponto de querer descer 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pQJVgNTF5x_n-rXV6ajGAEH8fLI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pQJVgNTF5x_n-rXV6ajGAEH8fLI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/loMuG-fjZBk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/02/pra-desafogar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0IFRX04eCp7ImA9WxBXFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-9043054157123547970</id><published>2010-01-28T03:09:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-28T05:05:14.330+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-28T05:05:14.330+01:00</app:edited><title>Gracias Por Venir</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/9043054157123547970/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=9043054157123547970&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/9043054157123547970?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/9043054157123547970?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/UWF7O4CrKE0/gracias-por-venir.html" title="Gracias Por Venir" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S2D5hSZkZBI/AAAAAAAABOs/OsHQoGW4hjQ/s72-c/outloveisperfect.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><content type="html">Grita meu nome e me diz “vem”.Me diz coisas sobre a imensidão dessa cama de noventa, e que não agüentas mais olhar pro céu todas as vezes que ouves um avião passar, pra fantasiar que seria tão bom que ele me estivesse levando para ti, e imaginas teu coração disparar pelos passos corridos até o saguão de Barajas e esperar por alguém que no final não chegou. Enquanto eu aqui fico acordando pela 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IHbiAeH0LktEJZGNWVgV0W94vTA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IHbiAeH0LktEJZGNWVgV0W94vTA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/UWF7O4CrKE0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/01/gracias-por-venir.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAMQ3s6fip7ImA9WxBQGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-7627410759001837070</id><published>2010-01-18T16:56:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T17:56:22.516+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-18T17:56:22.516+01:00</app:edited><title>Sorte, Sorte, Sorte</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/7627410759001837070/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=7627410759001837070&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/7627410759001837070?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/7627410759001837070?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/SCwQehtBNZI/sorte-sorte-sorte.html" title="Sorte, Sorte, Sorte" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S1SF9_tdUAI/AAAAAAAABN0/7m0IJQixjH4/s72-c/vaiatr%C3%A1s.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>8</thr:total><content type="html">Já me acostumei com a tua voz e o teu riso rouco, o teu beijo, a textura da tua pele na minha e com ver-te sempre sorrindo pra mim quando acordas.Me acostumei também com teus eventuais azedumes, teus dias tempestuosos, ácidos, dias que acontecem pra qualquer pessoa, por mais encantadora que ela possa ser.Tenho aprendido sobre alguns dos teus limites, teus métodos, teus gostos e tuas manias, e 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H7apa4dq0vceoxYIllIi6D8zUds/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/H7apa4dq0vceoxYIllIi6D8zUds/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~4/SCwQehtBNZI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/2010/01/sorte-sorte-sorte.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcESH0zeCp7ImA9WxBRGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854245418920847440.post-4685253489737961817</id><published>2010-01-08T04:36:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T05:13:29.380+01:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-08T05:13:29.380+01:00</app:edited><title>Prosa da Toda Prosa</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://doamorquesinto.blogspot.com/feeds/4685253489737961817/comments/default" title="Enviar comentarios" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854245418920847440&amp;postID=4685253489737961817&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 comentarios" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4685253489737961817?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854245418920847440/posts/default/4685253489737961817?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DoAmorQueSinto/~3/6DxPUaFk6fU/uma-prosa-um-conto-uma-prosa-vida-real.html" title="Prosa da Toda Prosa" /><author><name>Dani Cabrera</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10392722675270430828</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZC1hlWk6E/TVs7g5s-pmI/AAAAAAAABVM/Uj-9lm_-bFg/s220/7228_137753334824_672629824_2399490_1745362_n.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CSQ8A4xFfz8/S0aqRx1tlCI/AAAAAAAABNc/LbwCqh3V35s/s72-c/faa046000501.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><content type="html">Eu gosto de dizer que te amo mesmo sabendo que pra ti já não é novidade, e gosto também quando sem ter a mínima dúvida disso tu ainda me perguntas. Eu gosto de saber que me amas do tamanho de um avião, de um transatlântico, do sol visto da metade de caminho e mais um quilômetro, pra não queimar.Eu gosto de beijar teus olhos, sorrir pra ti sem ter motivo aparente e te ver sorrindo pra mim também 
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