Between your wanting and mine,
just a satin's width.

So slight,
desire had already crossed it
long before
our hands did.

It wasn't a border.

It was the last distance
still able to pretend
we remained two.

We looked at each other.

And it was the satin,
not us,
that first
held its breath.

Then,
it gave way.

The silence
changed its language.

Your breath
entered mine,
the way the sea
enters the sand
without asking.

My hands
didn't discover your body.

They remembered the way.

Yours
made a place
of my skin
I never
wanted to leave.

There was no hurry.

What is meant to stay
is never in a hurry.

That's when I understood
that hell
was never the fire.

It was the distance.

Just a satin's width
between us.

And I understood too
that heaven
was never above.

It always began
where the waiting
ended.

When there was no longer
any cloth,
any fear,
any distance,

we stopped searching for each other.

Because there was no longer
a you.

Or an I.

Only one heartbeat,

breathing

without distance.

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