I light myself slowly,
wick before flame,
hips remembering a language
older than prayer.
Your name moves through me
like breath learning rhythm,
not spoken—
summoned.
I open the gate between pulse and thought,
where wanting becomes knowing,
where heat teaches truth
what words never could.
My body is not asking.
It is directing.
I arch intention into the dark,
let sensation erase the border
between here and inevitable.
Between me and mine.
Every shiver writes a symbol.
Every sigh loosens the world.
I do not beg the universe—
I seduce it.
When release finally comes
(it always does),
it is not an ending
but a seal pressed warm
into the future.
I dress myself afterward
like a secret.
The spell keeps working.
