No es el dolor lo que cansa. Es la ausencia de su ausencia.

El cuerpo aprende a convivir con el filo: la cicatriz como mapa, el morete como calendario. Pero cuando la herida cierra, el silencio se vuelve otro tipo de sangre.

It seems you're looking for the PDF of — a phrase that translates to "The loneliness of a body accustomed to the wound."

Based on the poetic and somber tone, this is likely a work of contemporary poetry or narrative prose from a Spanish-language author (possibly someone like , Gioconda Belli , or a newer voice on social media platforms like Twitter or Tumblr, where such phrases often circulate as micro-poetry).