how his rhythm spins

When I say
He makes me
Sweat;
Walking alone
To the beat
Of what he only
Commands.
I pass other
Men hollering
About what they aren’t
Ready for.
This
Is not a request
I am saying,
With jasmine scented
Steps, not relying
But wanting.
Becoming future,
Don’t mistake
My corner eyed check
To be an invitation;
For you’re
Small, unsteady, uncertain
When it comes
To what I have
In mind, I am
Already dancing
To a groove of someone
You will never
Be.