““I don’t stay—I invade. I move closer until resistance forgets its name, until wanting feels like gravity and you stop pretending you can stand alone. I don’t want your hours; I want the moment your control slips, your voice rough at ungodly times, when desire speaks louder than thought and time kneels quietly in the corner. I want your hand tight, not gentle, not careful. The room doesn’t calm us— it watches, holding its breath as we undo the rules we swore we followed. I don’t want your mind explaining itself. I want the look you give right before surrender replaces language. I don’t clean up the mess— I leave truth raw, felt deep enough to bruise. I want your darkness, the parts you lock away and call discipline, the hunger you silence so you can sleep at night. Not just who you are— but who you become when restraint finally breaks and you let the wanting win””
