miércoles, julio 15, 2015


La cuchilla de la espera corta el silencio / tenías la boca como un invierno /
la tristeza del Lucifer de la vida / la pena del que está solo en su Infierno
con los cuerpos incandescentes / rotos de deseos / «avívidos» Y así, así, se va
la noche por los agujeros de la Tierra



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