Que sepas que sobre mí caen todas las noches desde que te has ido; se me hacen nudos en la cama, ceguera sin salida, larga noche desplegada. Ya fuimos huérfanos abatidos, gritos de ceguera, noches sin salida. Fuiste tú el presente de mi existencia, el deshoje de la vida, a veces mirada florecida, otras, simple presencia. Y se le caen las palabras al olvido como si no tuviese memoria. Pero recuerda, que antes fuiste, amor, el germen de mi parte más desconocida.
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