.Viene atrás de mà la imagen de un puño en mi abdomen,
de dÃas que se acaban antes de medianoche.
Debo aceptar que rompo el silencio, solo queda reÃr>de lo que hablan los que me rodean, yo no escucho nada:
Labios motores
Y van a sonar las canciones, de las que me ponen triste.
.
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