No me escribas

lunes, marzo 19, 2018

Es él el sistema de las sombras. Tumbadas realizan sus sueños. No me escribas, ¡no! ya estoy sobre la arena. Has dejado las palomas al vuelo, las horas al cuerpo, el vivir sin sustancia. Pues íbamos de viento y amor, de pena y queja. Me hiciste adicto y corrupto, gato de la curiosidad y oído. Me hiciste cadera nerviosa, loca agitación, detrás de los susurros. 

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