Aquel misterio. A su servicio. Al enigma sin frenos. Eran nuestros desbordes sagrados. Nuestras dependencias, suaves. Y cualquier relación nos habitaba, sin amnesia del ser. Nuestro rostro resuelto brillaba. Nuestro refugio, desgarrado ya, se declaraba insolvente. Al parecer, a mi parecer, nos declarábamos para ambos presencia, urgente presencia.
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