Te recibo en un beso pegado en la retina. Yo pluma, tú viento. Se le cae la piel a la noche y los dedos a escalofríos. En aquel momento, en el tacto del recuerdo, estabas antes y cerca. Fuimos campo recogiendo primaveras. Dormía el pez sobre una hoja acuática espesa. Hicimos noches de temblor y cama.
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