“Deseándote” is a sizzling salsa confession about two ex-lovers who can’t stop orbiting each other, even while they’re holding someone else’s hand. Each time their eyes meet on the street, sparks fly, memories of skin-to-skin passion ignite, and suddenly the people beside them feel like mere “substitutes.” Frankie Ruíz paints the bittersweet picture of pretending to move on while secretly inventing the other person in your mind, replaying every embrace, every tremble, every taste.
The song swings between seductive fantasy and raw vulnerability. Over pulsating horns and congas, the narrator admits he spends every day, every night longing to dive back into his lover’s “abismos,” while she mirrors that craving “en la farsa de otros labios.” It’s a dance of distance and closeness: physically apart, emotionally intertwined. “Deseándote” captures the universal tug-of-war between passion that lingers and the masks we wear to hide it, all delivered with Ruíz’s trademark charisma and the irresistible energy of classic 80s salsa.