I know how to kneel.

  I also know how to make someone else do it.

  Power is not foreign to me—

  it lives in my spine,

  in the way I decide when to soften

  and when to sharpen.

  I know what it means to give control.

  Not because I lack it,

  but because I choose when to release it.

  There is a difference.

  I am not fragile in my surrender.

  I am deliberate.

  I am watching even when I’m quiet.

  I am measuring even when I’m open.

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  Do not mistake my want

  for emptiness.

  Do not confuse my hunger

  with a lack of teeth.

  I can hold you.

  I can break you.

  I can disappear into you

  or make you orbit me.

  And I know exactly which version of myself

  I am offering.

  But hear this—

  I do not give myself to be used.

  I give myself to be met.

  To be matched.

  To be respected in the depth of my intensity,

  not exploited by it.

  If I let you lead me,

  it is not because I am small.

  It is because I trust you with something dangerous.

  And if I take control,

  it is not because I need dominance—

  it is because I know how to protect

  what I touch.

  I want power that understands power.

  Not ego.

  Not performance.

  Presence.

  I am not a role.

  I am a force choosing where to land.