En el eco de tu mirada, en el eco de tu mentira, necesitaba tu secreto como disculpa del dolor que me habías hecho. En la disculpa recién cerrada, en el grito de tus ojos, en el contagio de tu desprecio, viví la oscura luz y difícil frialdad. Ya gotea. Ya hace drama tu boca. Ya habla la esponja de la noche en su lengua negra del miedo.
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