Y si lloro, será porque duermes. Es tu boca, la que me llama tu boca. Es tu desnudez la que sostengo. Y si silencios me pones, gimo como una carne flaca, de amor, digo, de hambre. En la pérdida gruta de tu boca, se apaga mi sed y rabia. Tuvimos, para compartir, palabras viejas de almohada, ambas sendas de tu cama. Estaban los presentimientos al alcance de la mano, evocando, descorazonados, el miedo.
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