Some women walk into a room and ask to be noticed.
I preferred to be remembered.
Not for what I revealed, but for what I withheld.
A whisper instead of a confession.
A glance instead of a promise.
Leaving behind questions that linger long after the music ends.
Desire has never belonged to the desperate.
It belongs to those who understand the power of anticipation.
The slow burn.
The unanswered question.
The delicious uncertainty of whether the thing you want will ever truly be yours.
So tonight Iβll remain exactly where I belong.
Somewhere between fantasy and memory.
Close enough to haunt you.
Far enough to keep you wondering.
βI never wanted to be the woman everyone noticed. I wanted to be the woman they couldnβt stop thinking about after I was gone.β π€β¨
