It’s not the walk,
though yeah, there’s a strut—
like your hips know something
the rest of us don’t.

It’s not the size.
(Though let’s be honest,
you’re not hurting in that department.)
It’s the pause before you speak—
not because you’re unsure,
but because you know they’ll wait.

It’s the eye contact
that says I will ruin you,
and the smile
that says but only if you ask nicely.

It’s showing up
like you didn’t even try,
but still manage to look
like sex walked in wearing your face.

It’s the joke that makes them blush,
and the silence after,
where nobody knows what to say—
because somehow,
you made “moist” sound poetic.

You don’t flex.
You just exist.
And somehow,
they’re already imagining
the things you do
with that mouth,
those hands,
that ego.

You don’t chase.
You invite.
And if they come running?
Of course they do.

That’s the energy.
It’s not just big—
it’s legendary.
And yeah,
you know it.

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