I had always been in our silences. The soothing silence of the heart that beats strong. If we let the breath and red cheeks. One eye in the eye ... He makes me all warm there, because I look at the blue of her eyes. Because his lips outline this little smile that makes me wish just liquid ...
I loved our silences, because they quietly murmured words so sensual ... Our silences, they sighed ...
They anchored.
Now I do not know. Something has changed and our silence make noise. Silence so heavy that they become unbearable.
The kind of silence where every sound, even the most imperceptible - the rustle of a garment when it moves a little feet, little nervous tapping of his fingers on the table, the light squeak of his fingers he spends in his beard - every noise seems to amplify the void until it fills the ears ... This silence refers to an echo that is increasing the pain of emptiness in my life ...
, because I hear my body's yells wanted him ... I can not silence the desire that I find myself against her naked body nor the furious and uncontrollable desire for sex in my mouth ... And I dare not look him in the eyes, because I fear that this torrent of desire to hear that I'm supposed to be contained. I fear that he may hear the prayers of my body: "Touch me ... Take me ... Fuck me ..."
Our silences kill me, because I no longer hear his desire of me ...
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