Se masticaba la noche bajo la niebla. Respiraban locos los suspiros. Contestaba tu cuerpo como una estrella. Y los labios ya no parecían lejanos. Las palabras recorrían nuestros cuerpos. Un instante, un haberte vivido sin amarte, tormento. Cada noche recorre aquello que calla. Pero ahora aprendo del libro de tus manos.
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