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Only look when I let you. There are nights I want eyes lowered, not in shame, but in worship I haven’t asked for. My hijab holds to me like it knows what I am keeping under what I never show. Thighs press together beneath layers I won’t lift. The anklet catches the light when I move, just enough to remind who decides. It turns me on knowing someone could shake from waiting, not touching. I hold the moment until control wraps itself around everything left untouched. That’s the command I give without ever touching. A gaze means nothing until I offer mine in return. Sometimes I imagine holding someone’s stare beneath my fingers, and never letting it rise again.
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