Érase la fresa de la ansiedad del amor

sábado, noviembre 12, 2016

Mientras te hablo mis manos te están leyendo y mi boca se frota, se frota con el amanecer de tus labios. Hoy, vestidos y mojados, haciendo llamadas a tus nocturnas piernas. Érase la fresa de la ansiedad del amor y del deseo en el flujo del exceso.

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