I love a loud silence.
The kind that follows a furious fight.
Adrenaline calling for breath.
One that’s warm. And moist. And soft.
But heady still and hot and wet and
Furry awkwardness on your tongue.
Empty lungs and raw throats.
Only tense eyes left,
On both silences.
-Lucie De Roeck
Translated by David Colmer