Your eyes never ask for permission.
They take.
Not in cruelty,
but in the quiet way longing always does-
a steady burn,
not a blaze.

They follow more than shapes.
They follow truth,
the kind hidden behind guarded smiles
and held breath.

Hungry eyes don't beg,
they wait.
Wait for the flicker of invitation,
for the moment when silence breaks open
and something real steps out.

You looked at me
and I felt known,
not undressed-
uncovered.