My Body Said Yes.
I Wasn’t Ready.
There’s a moment most people skip.
The one where your body leans forward
but something quieter asks you to wait.
We talk about consent like it’s the whole story.
Yes.
No.
Not yet.
Clear. Necessary. Non-negotiable.
But consent isn’t the same thing as readiness.
And that’s where things get blurred.
Because readiness isn’t a decision.
It’s a state.
It means open.
It means safe.
It means your body and your mind are in the same place at the same time.
And they aren’t always.
There’s this quiet assumption that once you’ve crossed a line once,
you’re always able to cross it again.
That readiness becomes implied.
It doesn’t.
Consent can be given in a moment.
Readiness cannot be forced into one.
Because sex, despite how casually we speak about it,
is not casual.
Not in the body.
It’s two nervous systems syncing.
Regulating.
Exchanging chemistry.
Binding, even if briefly.
It creates a tether.
And if you consider yourself important,
you don’t place that lightly.
My body can respond to a scene in a movie.
That doesn’t mean I’m ready to be inside it.
There is a difference.
And learning that difference
is where self-trust begins.
And the video?
That was me playing.
I take pleasure in my creativity.
Writing, for me, has never been just words on a page.
It’s placement.
Pacing.
The quiet hope that something lands somewhere in you
without needing to be explained.
Or so we hope.
I wanted to experiment with something more literal.
Poetry in motion.
Using my body as the tension.
The words as the space between.
And the music as the thing that moves through both.
Not to perform.
But to feel what happens
when all three meet.
I like to play with my words.
My art.
The way I exist in the world.
There’s something honest in that.
Because pleasure, to me, has never been limited to sex.
It’s in attention.
In sensation.
In the act of noticing what moves through me
and choosing to stay with it.
It’s embodiment.
And I take great pleasure in that.
—M💋
