18

When you're out of the shower,
steam still clings to your shoulders
and your head is smooth,
as if you'd washed away the day with it.
A towel hangs on the radiator,
warm and heavy,
and the whole bathroom smells of a cleanliness,
which doesn't have to apologize.
You come closer
and rest your forehead against mine,
without words.
And I realize
that happiness isn't always a shout,
but this quiet moment,
when two breaths reach an understanding.