Your gaze arrives first, striking, piercing, like someone who knows exactly where desire is born. Your mouth—a dangerous invitation, one that makes distance seem like a mistake. Your body traces curves that my hands imagine even before touching, and your waist seems to hold secrets that beg to be discovered. I descend slowly through thought, without haste, because desire also knows how to be patient. And when I reach the limit between wanting and having, only that silence remains, in which two bodies understand everything that the mouth has not yet said.