En tus manos, grietas

miércoles, junio 07, 2017

En tus manos, grietas. En mis ojos, noche. Diario, a veces. Llegada y desaparecida. Sombra impaciente alargada. Nos cruzábamos, solitarios, en nuestro olvido en la barriada de las flores amarillas. Terminaba la ciudad, y campo. Abandono del recorrido, y suelo. Pasaban los árboles en nuestras vueltas de cuerpos. Tierra e hierba como manta.

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