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la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
para venir tan pronto a esto imaginaba obscuridad
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
hace tres años hoy
flores de bebés
tormenta
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
era no para ese olor singular
nunca había un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una
de piso al techo
me pregunto donde usted vive

 



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