De mano. De hoy. De tus labios adicto. Tengo tu piel memorizada. Tu ritmo. Tu danza. Hasta hoy éramos hoja de tormenta, maldiciones clavadas, encerradas cadenas, espejos sin verano, huecas madrigueras. Si es que alguna vez me maldigo, es por no haberte amado lo bastante. Porque creí ser perfume de verano, hueco maldito, vida cerrada, cadena con candados.
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