My anklet feels my secrets.

My anklet feels my secrets. My anklet feels my secrets. Some nights I think my anklet knows what I don’t say. Every small turn of my legs makes it move against my skin, like it can feel the warmth I am keeping to myself. My hijab stays perfect on my face, while my thighs hold the feeling I can’t let out. I imagine what it would be like if someone stayed there, close enough to feel every part of me asking to be touched, but never moving anywhere else. The thought makes me stay still longer than I should, like my own body is waiting for something only I can imagine. I stay like that, alone with the warmth and the soft sound of my anklet, thinking it knows me better than anyone ever will.