Ya no recuerdo el ruido del dolor en su inmovilidad infinita. Ya no soporto la noche. Y a pesar de todo, algo queda. Quedan las últimas palabras que nunca se dijeron. Como si volvieran las sombras con todos los secretos del silencio. Desfallecen ya mis manos. Se rompieron nuestros cuerpos en esa noche imperfecta. Quedaron los aullidos de la mentira.
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