Obedience without asking.

Obedience without asking. Sometimes I see a body follow mine, without needing to be told how. My hijab stays wrapped while my legs open just enough to speak for me. The anklet touches deeper when I move without offering anything. It turns me on knowing someone can read my breath and still not touch. I don’t offer instructions, I don’t explain. I cross my legs like it means something, and somehow it always does. When I don’t move, everything else starts to wait with me, like the room knows who it belongs to. I want more than a body that follows , I want the mind that waits. I want silence that waits until I give it meaning. And when I turn away, I want that silence to stay full.